y month at Le Mans in Madame's beautiful
French bed was the one luxury I've struck so far.

_Tuesday, 26th January._--A dazzling blue spring day. As we were not
going in to load at Rouen till 3 P.M., we went for the most glorious
walk in this country. We crossed the ferry over the Seine to the foot of
the steep high line of hills which eventually overlooks Rouen, and
climbed up to the top by a lovely winding woody path in the sun. (The
boatman congratulated us on the sinking of the _Bluecher_, as a naval
man, I suppose.) "Who said War?" said P. while we were waiting on the
shingle for the boat; it did seem very remote. At the top we got to the
Church of Le Bon Secours, which is in a very fine position with a
marvellous view. We had some lovely cider in a very clean pub with a
garden, and then took the tram down a very steep track into Rouen. I
was standing in the front of the tram for the view over Rouen, which was
dazzling, with the spires and the river and the bridges, when we turned
a sharp corner and smashed bang into a market-cart coming up our track.
For the moment one thought the man and woman and the horse must be done
for; the horse disappeared under the tram, and there arose such a
screaming that the three Tommies and I fell over each other trying to
get out to the rescue. When we did we found the man and woman had been
luckily shot out clear of the tram, except that the man's hand was torn,
and the old woman was frantically screaming, "Mon cheval, mon cheval,
mon cheval," at least a hundred times without stopping. The others were
out by this time and the two tram people, and the French clack went on
at its top speed, while P. and the Tommies and a very clever old woman
out of the tram tried to cut the horse clear of the broken cart, and I
did up the man's hand with our hankies; the only one concerned least was
the horse, who kept quiet with its legs mixed up in the tram. At last
the tram succeeded in moving clear of the horse without hurting it, and
it was got up smiling after all. The outside old woman went on picking
up the fish and the harness, &c., the man was taken off to have his
hand bathed, and the poor old woman of the cart stopped screaming "Mon
cheval, mon cheval," and went off to have a drink, and we walked on and
found a train at Rouen. That sort of thing is always happening in
France.

I hope the overworked people at the heads of the various departments of
the British Army realise how the men