I bid farewell to my friends of the Alberta Dragoons and found a billet at La Creche.

From thence I moved to Romarin and made my home in a very dirty little French farmhouse.

The Roman Catholic chaplain and I had each a heap of straw in an outhouse which was a kind of general workroom.

At one end stood a large churn, which was operated, when necessary, by a trained dog, which was kept at other times in a cage.

The churn was the breeding place of innumerable blue-bottles, who in spite of its savoury attractions annoyed us very much by alighting on our food and on our faces.