the men in the main trenches. The emplacement was shelled to-day; one shell hit the roof, burst and knocked over one of my men, cutting his head open. He is not very badly hurt, but has gone to the hospital. The shelling has been terrible to-day.

The Germans have been very quiet lately, and working parties are out all along their front lines at night-something's up. Dirty work can be expected at any time now. We have steel helmets to protect us from spent bullets and splinters. They look like the old Tudor steel helmets and they are fine to wash in.

You have no idea what a big part food plays in our life. Yesterday morning I went with the machine-gun officer of another outfit to crawl about looking for positions. We were in an orchard. I happened to look up and saw ripe PLUMS! Terrified lest he should see them and forestall me, I said, "Let's beat it, this is too unhealthy," so we crawled back. Last night in the light of a big moon such as coons always steal watermelons by,

a section officer and his cook crawled to the plum tree. The section officer, being large, stood underneath while the cook climbed the tree and dropped them into a sandbag held open by the S.O. They got about ten pounds. They go well stewed, believe me. The fact that bullets whistled through the trees most of the time made them taste better to-day. Sat the rest of the night in a hedge firing at the Boches with a Lewis gun. I struck for bed just as dawn broke.

To-day the guns are again "hating" the chateau, and they have put sixty shells in the neighborhood. Still, "there's no cloud without a silver lining." I've got a new way home. Instead of going right around the kennels, stables, and through the yards, I go "through" the greenhouse direct, thereby saving a lot of time. The Huns' calendar is wrong. They have always shelled me Sunday and Wednesday. To-day's

Tuesday!

We use up the window frames and door

ways for kindling, and consequently the doors have gone long ago. I have been smashing up mouldings this morning with an axe. We prefer the dry wood which is built into the walls; it burns better and does n't cause smoke. As soon as smoke is seen rising, the enemy's range-finders get busy and then we suffer.

Another mine went up yesterday; nobody seems to know where. I think it came south from the French lines; it rocked the whole neighborhood for miles. The ground here is a kind of quicksand for a few feet down, and shock is easily transmitted, the whole ground being honeycombed with mines, old trenches, shafts, saps made by French, Belgians, Germans and our own people.

The use for timber of any description is manifold; every little bit is used up. Our chief source of supply of dry wood is from the smashed-up chateaux. Langhof, my home, has been punished almost every day, and after the bombardment lets up men from the neighborhood come to collect the wood torn