We passed a very merry time here for nearly three weeks—­such a time as many were destined never to know again—­and then were shipped to Marseilles, en route for the trenches on the Western Front.

In the “Main Guard” of the Governor’s Palace at Valetta we left behind us a fresco memorial of our short sojourn on the island.  For many generations it has been the custom of regiments stationed in Malta to paint or draw regimental crests, portraits (and caricatures), etc., on the interior walls of this “Main Guard,” and on its doors also.  Walls and doors, both are very full of these more or less artistic mementoes, but space was found which I was asked to cover with a black and white series of cartoons of prominent members of our (the 2nd) Battalion R.F.

CHAPTER II.

From Malta to Marseilles.

From the bows of our boat as she lay in harbour at Marseilles, I “spotted” three typical figures.  The one holding the rope is a French sailor, the one at the bottom of the picture is a French gendarme, and the third is a Ghurka, one of our fine sturdy hillmen from India, who had come out to France to stand by the Empire.

Marseilles was a most wonderful sight at the time I was there, and although I had made many previous visits in normal times, when I had greatly admired its grand proportions, none of them had given me any idea of what its appearance would be when it became the clearing station in the time of such a great war, and one of the chief bases of all food supplies.  Troops of all descriptions were working like ants by day and by night, unloading boats to the huge stores of all descriptions of provender, and loading the trains with all kinds of artillery, ammunition, Red Cross wagons, motors, horses, and all the paraphernalia of modern warfare.

The town is the third largest in France, and the chief Mediterranean seaport.  Its history teems with exciting incidents of plague, fire, sacking, siege, and hand-to-hand fighting, so it is quite in keeping that it should take so important a part in the present conflict.  It was here Monte Cristo was hurled from the Chateau d’If in the sack from which he cut his escape.  Francis the First besieged it in vain, and it prospered under King Rene.  In the French Revolution it figured so conspicuously as to give the title to the national hymn of the French.

THE STORY OF “THE MARSEILLAISE.”

Is it too late to tell again the story of the origin of “The Marseillaise”?

[Illustration:  On the QUAYHEAD at Marseilles.]