ital; but you mustn't talk."

"What hospital; why can't I talk?"

"Number Twelve; but I think you should keep quiet and rest."

"Had plenty rest; where's Number Twelve?"

"St. Pol; but, really, you must go to sleep now."

I went to sleep, wondering how the dickens I happened to be in St.
Paul, which was what I understood her to say. (The French spell it
differently but pronounce it about the same.)

From that time on, scarcely an hour passed that one of the kindly
nurses or sisters did not come in and look to see if I was awake, and
if so, could they get me something to eat or drink. It was heaven, all
right; or at least, my idea of what heaven should be.

I learned that, although I was disabled on the night of the tenth, I
was not picked up until the twelfth and then had been relayed through
several dressing stations and hospitals until I landed in Number
Twelve General Hospital, at the town of St. Pol. It was a B. R. C.
(British Red Cross) institution and was altogether different from my
preconceived ideas of hospitals. The day when I first "woke up" was
the fifteenth of October, my birthday.

After several days I was put aboard a hospital train and taken to
LeTreport, where I was assigned to Lady Murray's Hospital, another
B. R. C. place. It had been, before the war, The Golf Hotel, one of the
many splendid seaside hotels that have been converted into hospitals.
Here, again, I was royally treated. Every wish appeared to be
anticipated by the indefatigable and ever-cheerful women and girls,
many of them volunteers, members of prominent and even titled
families. Lady Murray personally visited every patient at least once a
day.

All these ambulances at LeTreport are driven by girls belonging to the
V. A. D. I'm not sure whether it means Volunteer Ambulance Department or
Volunteer Aid Department, but that is immaterial; they are wonders,
whatever name they sail under.

They work all hours, day or night, transferring patients to and from
trains and hospitals. They furnished their own uniforms and paid all
their own expenses, and for a long time served without any
compensation, but I have heard that a small allowance has been made
them recently.

The girl who took us down to the train told me that she had been over
there two years. I asked her if it was not pretty hard work and she
replied: "Oh, sometimes it is hard, when the weather is bad, but we
know it is nothing to what the men are doing up in front, so