We had arrived in England
with 65 per cent. of the men inoculated, and it was my ambition to get
them all done before the division left for France.
Accordingly I settled down in the Bear Hotel in the little Wiltshire
town of Devizes, the head-quarters of the artillery brigade, and began
my educational campaign.
The old Bear Hotel was one of the famous old coaching houses of former
days; it had seen much life in ye olden times when it had been the
chief stopping place of the bloods of London en route to the famous
City of Bath and the historic Pump Room. It was a homey-looking old
place, with the usual appearance of comfort pertaining to an English
Inn, and the maximum amount of discomfort as judged by our modern
standards. The food was good, and the fire places looked bright and
cheery, like the bar maid behind the polished bar. It was mostly in
looks. No wonder that the British people fortify themselves with
copious draughts of stimulants to help keep out the cold. There were
some magnificent pieces of old furniture and Sheffield plate in the
halls--pieces that many a collector had tried in vain to purchase. My
room lit by two candles in earthenware candlesticks; and with a fire
in a corner grate--at a shilling a day extra--looked cozy enough but
the bedroom furniture was ancient and uncomfortable.
The officers of the Artillery Headquarters lived at the hotel, and I
took my meals with them.
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