o tell you about the War, but I may say that we
are now in the trenches. We are all in the pink, and not many of the
boys has gotten a dose of lead-poisoning yet._

It is a pity that the names of places have to be left blank. Otherwise
we should get some fine phonetic spelling. Our pronunciation is
founded on no pedantic rules. Armentieres is Armentears, Busnes is
Business, Bailleul is Booloo, and Vieille Chapelle is Veal Chapel.

The chief difficulty of the writers appears to be to round off their
letters gracefully. _Having no more to say, I will now draw to a
close_, is the accepted formula. Private Burke, never a tactician,
concludes a most ardent love-letter thus: "_Well, Kate, I will now
close, as I have to write to another of the girls_."

But to Private Mucklewame literary composition presents no
difficulties. Here is a single example of his terse and masterly
style:--

_Dere wife, if you could make the next postal order a trifle stronger,
I might get getting an egg to my tea.--Your loving husband_, JAS.
MUCKLEWAME, _No_. 74077.

But there are features of this multifarious correspondence over which
one has no inclination to smile. There are wistful references to old
days; tender inquiries after bairns and weans; assurances to anxious
wives and mothers that the dangers of modern warfare are merely
nominal. There is an almost entire absence of boasting or lying, and
very little complaining. There is a general and obvious desire to
allay anxiety. We are all "fine"; we are all "in the pink." "This is a
grand life."

Listen to Lance-Corporal M'Snape: _Well, mother, I got your parcel,
and the things was most welcome; but you must not send any more. I
seen a shilling stamp on the parcel: that is too much for you to
afford_. How many officers take the trouble to examine the stamp on
their parcels?

And there is a wealth of homely sentiment and honest affection which
holds up its head without shame even in the presence of the Censor.
One rather pathetic screed, beginning: _Well, wife, I doubt this will
be a poor letter, for I canna get one of they green envelopes to-day,
but I'll try my best_--Bobby Little sealed and signed without further
scrutiny.

V

One more picture, to close the record of our trivial round.

It is a dark, moist, and most unpleasant dawn. Captain Blaikie stands
leaning against a traverse in the fire-trench, superintending
the return of a party from picket duty. They file in, sleepy an