was that the French people would be disgusted if
they saw us playing. Perhaps the French people in that neighbourhood
were more seriously minded than those in other parts of the country.
Perhaps they were less friendly, and it was necessary to consider
their feelings with particular care. I have no way of judging about
that. Elsewhere the French seemed to take a mild interest in our
passion for games; but in that district they may very well have been
of a different mind.

Whether the official estimate of the French spirit was right or
wrong, the result for us was that we were very badly off for outdoor
games. Football and cricket were played, half-heartedly, for matches
(on the plan of League matches at home) were not allowed. The
formation of an officers' tennis club was forbidden.

On the other hand the men were very well off for indoor amusements.
Every Y.M.C.A. hut ran concerts. There were two large cinema huts in
the camps. Boxing was encouraged by many officers, and interesting
competitions took place which were eagerly watched.

But as the days lengthened with the coming of spring, there were
hours which hung very heavily on every one. The officers were
slightly better off than the men. They could always go into the
neighbouring town, some four miles off, and find a certain amount of
amusement in walking about the streets. But it was a singularly dull
town. The men could not leave the camps without permission, and a
pass was not always, indeed not often, attainable.

Their favourite pastime was a game which they called "House," which
was known to many of us when we were children as Loto. It is an
exceedingly dull game, and I cannot believe that the men would have
played it as they did if any other kind of game had been possible.
There is a mild element of gambling about House. A small sum of money
may be won, a very small sum lost. That I suppose was the attraction.

But it was rather a pitiful thing to walk through the camps on a fine
afternoon and to see every waste piece of ground occupied by House
players. There is no skill whatever in the game, and the players get
no exercise. They sit on the ground with a pile of small pebbles
before them, while one of them calls out a series of numbers. The
French people, if they had seen us playing House, would have come to
the conclusion that we are a nation of imbeciles. Bad as it may be to
have as allies men light-hearted enough to play cricket, it must be
severa