there is nothing so confusing as detraining in the dark.

                Details quickly threw off what was left of the regimental equipment, and we marched away through the fast-gathering dusk. We did not go far; a sort of sunken terrace behind the station proved to be our objective, and here we threw off our packs and waited.

                The hours passed slowly, but at last the long-expected whistle shrilled in the close-pressing dark­ ness, and glad to put an end to this inaction, we stumbled to our feet, clutching our packs, and fell in. We struggled up the terrace bank and, stumbling across the railroad tracks, started up a long dark street. Ahead of us shone many brightly lighted windows, while a tall, slender church spire, unreal and shimmering in the light of the new-risen moon, seemed to shift and sway over the town. Up the street we went, passing shop after shop, wondering which of the world's biggest cities this was, and finally marched out into a vast square. At one end was the church, a handsome Gothic structure; a fountain surmounted by a fine statue representing republican France, spouted and gurgled in the center, while around the sides ran a belt of glowing cafes and stores. We gazed in dumb incomprehension at all these wonders, the dominant idea in each mind being, a wish to be billeted in or near this town. That was too good to be seriously considered. We had had our turn at Varennes.

                Crossing the square, we plunged into the Stygian mouth of a side street, shut in by tall, solid looking

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