Letters we may pass over. They are featureless things,
except to their recipient. Parcels have more individuality. Ours are
of all shapes and sizes, and most of them are astonishingly badly
tied. It is quite heartrending to behold a kilted exile endeavouring
to gather up a heterogeneous mess of socks, cigarettes, chocolate,
soap, shortbread, and Edinburgh rock, from the ruins of what was once
a flabby and unstable parcel, but is now a few skimpy rags of brown
paper, which have long escaped the control of a most inadequate piece
of string--a monument of maternal lavishness and feminine economy.
Then there are the newspapers. We read them right through, beginning
at the advertisements and not skipping even the leading articles.
Then, when we have finished, we frequently read them right through
again. They serve three purposes. They give us information as to how
the War is progressing--we get none here, the rank and file, that
is; they serve to pass the time; and they afford us topics for
conversation. For instance, they enable us to follow and discuss the
trend of home politics. And in this connection, I think it is time you
were introduced to Captain Achille Petitpois. (That is not his real
name, but it is as near to it as most of us are likely to get.) He is
one of that most efficient body, the French _liaison_ officers, who
act as connecting-link between the Allied Forces, and naturally is
an accomplished linguist.
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