about military discipline and training than you could get from
months of study. He was always having little field-days, extra
drills, and so forth, and while any movements were on he was
always explaining and talking to you, showing why this, and why
that, and so forth. He had a fund of dry humour. One of the best
men at Dulwich, I always thought! Poor chap! Well, well!

[Footnote 6: Captain Arthur N. C. Kittermaster. Born, 1871.
Killed in action in Mesopotamia, April 5th, 1916. A master at
Dulwich, 1896-1915. An accomplished scholar and athlete, who
was C.O. of the Dulwich O.T.C.]

In May, 1916, Paul came home on leave. He spent a very enjoyable week
in London and had the satisfaction of meeting many old College
friends. On 12th May I saw him off by the 8.10 A.M. train from
Victoria. There is a clear picture of him in my mind's eye standing on
the platform before taking his seat in the waiting train, cheerily
greeting this friend and that, conspicuous in the throng of officers
by his massive physique. He looked the incarnation of young manly
vigour, courage and hope, and there was about him a fresh and
fragrant air like the atmosphere of that delicious spring morning. The
future is mercifully veiled from man. Little did either of us think
when saying farewell, clasping hands and gazing lovingly into each
other's eyes, that we would never meet again on this earth.

_May 15th, 1916._

Had a pleasant crossing to France. I dined in an hotel with a
gunner lieutenant, who in civil life was a Professor of
Literature, a charming and cultured man. We discussed some of our
respective pet theories on Art and Life, the Novel and the Drama,
etc., and found many points of agreement.

Well! it was a great leave. There is no countryside to compare
with the English. If you had lived among the flats of Flanders
you would find the tamest English scenery beautiful. Not that we
are situated at present in unbeautiful surroundings. In fact, the
downs about here are very pleasant, and there are many trees in
the valleys; but give me the English countryside. Then there is
London! Dear old London! to me the one town in the world. Our own
home, too, with its happy blend of urban and rural. And then the
old school----! Yes, it was a great leave, there can be no