us news of the Hun tidal wave that was to all appearances crumbling the British on the very front we had left. Troops were being rushed here and there at an instants notice to stem the angry tide. We wondered about ourselves and our rest period.

                The weather began to reflect our feeling of unrest, and the morning found the cold rain beating down and casting gloom about with a merciless impartiality. The weary horses that had been standing that night in the arctic downpour of rain were so drowned and shivering that it seemed they would shake themselves out of their halters. Dejected enough ourselves, before breakfast we led the poor beasts out along a winding, sodden road to bring a bit of warmth into their benumbed legs. As we splashed along the miry path and brushed by dripping bushes, Dame Rumor had full sway. The threatening cloud deepened and hung low. Our "rest" was to terminate before it had begun. The morning of the following day would find us on the road bound for the front!

Bound for the front, in such weather, with such horses, with no chance to recover from the hike even now completed, with such an ominous front before us as the conditions of the victorious Boche drive would warrant, without our mail: an inspiring outlook! Indeed fate seemed pitted against us. With physical torments heaped plentifully upon us, everything that happened seemed only to add one more drop to our already oversowing cup of discomfort. Under such conditions, the only saving influence

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