n, then the men of Canada are thrice blessed. Thus
passed my fourth night in French hospitals.

In the morning I saw through an open door in another ward a friend of
mine whom I had parted with on landing in Egypt. I called an orderly
to carry me through to an empty bed alongside him so that we might
renew our friendship. He was badly wounded in the arm and face, but it
was pleasant to meet again after many months. That was many months ago
and the other day I met him again in New York. We have only been a
short time together on each occasion, yet have continued our
acquaintance on four continents, many months intervening between each
meeting. There was a great hullabaloo in my ward when the matron came
in and found my bed empty. When she discovered where I was, she said:
"Who gave you permission to come in here?" I replied: "No one said I
was not to!" And anyway the pleasure was worth the commission of the
crime! That morning I was again picked up as a bundle and carried I
knew not whither, leaving my friend behind.

I was carried on board a British hospital-ship and lowered about three
decks down. As placards glared in one's eyes on every side about what
to do in case of submarine attack, I did not like very much the idea of
going down so far, for I always like to be able to depend upon myself
in an emergency, and I was now as helpless as a log. They put me in a
swinging cot, which was a great idea to prevent seasickness. We went
slowly out the harbor to sea with our prow pointing toward "Blighty,"
the El Dorado of the wounded Tommy. 'Twas little I saw of river,
harbor, or sea from my berth in the nethermost depths of that vessel's
hold. I was told we went across with all lights out. The days had
passed when, in our folly, we painted our hospital-ships white with a
green band and marked them with a red cross, or at night circled them
with a row of green lights illuminating a huge red cross near the
funnel, for we had found that we were only making them conspicuous as
targets for the "human shark of the sea." There have been more
hospital-ships sunk than troop-ships, for the troop-ship is armed and
convoyed, but the hospital-ship is an easy victim. The English port we
entered was shrouded in fog, and wharf buildings never at any time look
inviting, but we could nevertheless understand the excitement of our
English companions, for it was Home to them, and to us "dear old
England," the brave heart of t