s in the trenches: 'It bain't no use grousing. What mun be, mun be.' Terrible strong he were, too. One of our officers wur hit in front of the parapet and we coul

e faces of the nurse and the orderly officer, as they stood examining a case-sheet by the light of its rays. Beyond the penumbra were rows of white beds, and in the farthest corner lay the subject

f the bed hung a case-sheet and temperature-ch

ate, No. 1578936 B

erature-line ran sharpl

nd I held out my hand. He drew his own from bene

t be your

- B

y, zur, it be nex' parish; I come from

mine," I said. "W

last year, zur. I

en out a lon

ountry and ould Wiltshire. I guess we Wiltshiremen be worth two Gloster men any day though they do call us 'Moon-rakers.' Not but what the Glosters ain't very good fellers," he added indulgently. "Parson, he be mo

yes, zur, pretty fair. I mind I could throw a zack o' vlour ower my shoulder when I wu

sked, seeking to beguile

I at mowing or putting a hackle on a rick, though I do say it. And I could drive a straight furrow too. Heavy work it were. The soil be stiff clay, as ye kn

arents aliv

nd 'un now in his white smock all plaited in vront and mother in her cotton bonnet-you never

s wish you were back in

he added reflectively. "Many's the tiddling lamb I've a-brought up wi' my own hand

he woods-the bluebells and ane

t day. I were allus very fond o' thuck wood. My brother be squire's keeper there. Many a toime we childern went moochin' in thuck wood-nutting and bird-nesting. Though I never did h

childhood's memories and his

enches. Them nights-they do make you think a lot. It be mortal queer up there-you veels as if you were on the edge of the world. I used to look up at the sky and mind me o' them words in the B

've had a hot

. And I zeed so

ad

d we advances in 'stended order. We wur several yards apart, just loike we was when a section of us recruits wur put through platoon drill, when I fust jined the Army an' sergeant made us drill with skipping-ropes a-stretched out so as to get the spaces. And there wur a machine-gun in that there house-you know how they sputters. It cut down us poor chaps loike a reaper. Jacob Scaplehorn wur nex' me and I 'eerd 'un say 'O Christ Jesus' as 'e went over like a rabbit and 'e never said no more. 'E wur a good man, wur Scaplehorn"-he added musingly-"and 'e did good things. And some chaps wur down and dragging their legs

ha

locked. We smashed 'en in wi' our rifle-butts, and God's mercy! we found a poor woman there, her mother seemingly, with her breast all bloody an' her clothes torn. I could'n mak' out what 'er wu

out the Germ

e. So Capt'n 'e says, 'Fetch me some straw, Hunt.' 'Twere a kind o' farmhouse and I went out into the backside and vetched some. And Capt'n and us put a lot of it at top of steps and pushed a lot more vurther down, using our rifles like pitchforks and then 'e blew on his tinder and set it alight. 'Stand back, men,' he says, 'and be ready for 'em with the bay'net.' 'Tweren't no manner o' use shooting; 'twere too close

y'nets in the straw, Capt'n 'e said, 'Men, you

ten bad. Twoads they be! I never reckon no good 'ull come to men what abuses wi

him. Beads of perspiration glistened on his brow. I felt it was time for me to go.

d in the flushed face. "Yes, that I be, and I

you going to

will soon be home in Wiltshire again," I said encouragingly. He mused. "Reckon the Sweet Williams 'ull be out in the garden now; they do smell oncommon sweet. And mother-o'-thousa

d, "but it w

have news of him. The b

TNO

nearly as possible in the exac