ot
having any special qualification. However, my usual marvellous
good fortune seems not to have deserted me. It means just this,
that I am going to be a member of the most modern and most
interesting branch of the service. So great is my delight that I
scarcely know whether I am standing on my head or my heels. The
transfer will, I fear, prevent my coming home on leave for a
time. Anyway, it's more than possible that I shall come back to
England to train. I hope not, for despite my earnest
desire--more than you can ever guess--to see you all again, I
think it is far better to remain on active service, if possible,
when on duty.

I've been pretty busy with my brigade work recently, though to
nothing like the degree of November and the first fortnight of
December. One meets strange types of humanity on this sort of
duty. You can divide the countryfolk round these parts into three
lots: (_a_) The farmers--on the whole honest, but decidedly
avaricious; the French farmer's one fear in life is that his
neighbour across the way is being paid at a higher price than he
himself. (_b_) The average merchant, who is on the lookout for
making a bit in all sorts of illegal ways, such as cheating us by
underweight. (_c_) The honest middlemen, who, I regret to say,
are few and far between. As far as possible we always try to deal
with the farmers direct, as they are fairly honest, though very
obstinate. An honest middleman is very useful, but there are not
many of him. Business difficulties are increased by the
extraordinary accent in which the country people hereabouts talk.
Sometimes even French interpreters find themselves at a loss. I
am getting into it famously, and can even speak with the local
accent myself, to a certain extent.

Did you see that my old colleague, E. C. Cartwright, has got the
M.C.? His reports of 1st XV matches in Evans's year were the
feature of _The Alleynian_, as were poor Edkins's reports in the
year of my own captaincy. Also J. P. Jordan, another O.A., well
known to me, has won the M.C.

I am delighted that the Old Man (Mr. A. H. Gilkes) has received
the living of St. Mary Magdalene at Oxford. He could, I am sure,
have never had an appointment more to his tastes--barring,
indeed, his mastership at his beloved Dulwic