up, nevertheless, roars of merry laughter. What
appealed to them most was the way a padre and forty-four wild
Canadians, in the biggest war the world has ever known, were able to
break through the Hindenburg line of army red tape.

Our machine gun battalion was quartered south of the St. Pol road at a
place called Averdoignt. It was a lovely little village, very quiet
and well away from the line, with pretty orchards and a stream at the
back. When it was only possible to have a voluntary service in the
evening, I would get a group of men as a body-guard and start off down
the village to the quaint old church, halting at every farmyard on the
way and calling out to those billeted there, "Come on, you heathen,
come to the voluntary church parade." In the most good-natured (p. 259)
way, dragging their reluctant pals with them, men would come out and
swell our ranks until, by the time we reached the church, there was a
good congregation. There against the wall of the building I would
plant a table borrowed from the Cure's house, make it into an altar,
distribute hymn books, and start the service, while the evening lights
in the sky tinged the scene with a soft beauty.

When we were in the line the machine-gunners were always split up into
small sections over the front, their guns of course being very
carefully concealed. In consequence, just when I thought I had reached
an area which was quite uninhabited, I would stumble on some queer
little hole, and, on calling down it to see if there were any men
there, the answer would be, "The machine-gun battalion," and I would
find myself among friends. At Averdoignt they had one of the best rest
billets they ever had, and they enjoyed it thoroughly.

Owing to the great distance which I had to cover in doing my parish
visiting among the battalions, the difficulty of transportation, which
had been serious from the beginning, became even more pressing, and
some good friend suggested to me on the quiet that I should try to get
a Clino, (that is a machine-gun side-car) from the Motor Machine-Gun
Brigade. With great trepidation, I made an excursion one day to their
headquarters at Verdrel. The O.C. was most kind and sympathetic. I
shall never cease to invoke blessings upon his head. He took me over
to the machine-shop and there presented to me, for my use until it
should be recalled, a new Clino which had just come up from the base.
The officer in charge uttered a protest by saying