Pilgrimage Competition.
THE YPRES TIMES
A PRIZE of £5 is offered for the best description, not exceeding thirteen
hundred words, of any Ypres League Pilgrimage in which our readers have
taken part. Essays should reach the Secretary (The Ypres League, 9,
Baker Street, London, W.i) not later than February 28th, 1929. The prize essay
will be published in the April edition of The Ypres Times.
By A. D. Strange-Boston, C.E.
IT was in December, 1919, we were returning, Clark and I, from luncheon at the
Café de Ferrari, in Genoa, to our offices. Clark (an ex-diplomat) was chief
interpreter for the Lloyd Saubaudo in the Sotto Ripa, while I was located with
Wax and Vitale, shipping agents in the Darsena.
Leaving the Piazzi de Ferrari, we were heading in the direction of the Stazione
Principale by the way of the Via Carlo Felice, when we were accosted by two very
tall men. Both were well dressed and had beards. One was very fair, while the
other was very dark. Raising his bowler hat, the black-bearded man asked
Quanto siamó lontani dalla Stazione Principale, Signori?" (How far away are
we from the Central Station, gentlemen
We replied, Non distanticirca un chilometre, Signor. Andiamo lo nöi
stessi." (It is not far—about a milewe are going there ourselves.)
Fine," he rejoined, With your permission we will accompany you." The
fair-haired man was silent all the way, while the other one kept up an interesting
line of chatter. Going down the Via Garibaldi he turned suddenly to me, saying,
E francesevero?" (You are French).
Not much," I answered, sonó scozzese, ma sonó stato in quest' paese tante
volte." (I am a Scot, but I have visited this country many times.)
Ebbene—Pensó ió I had thought you to be French from your accent
but since you are British, and your friend as well, come, let us talk in English."
He did not introduce himself or his companion. Continuing through the
Piazza Annunciata to the Via Balbi we spoke of many thingsof shoes and ships
and sealing-wax, of cabbages and kings," but we laid off the war, for we both
(Clark and I) suspected our companions to be German. Reaching the station, we
continued our small talk when the treno per Parigi drew in. The platforms
were swarming with ex-soldiers, civilians, and carabinieri. Climbing into a seat,
the dark complexioned man said, We feel we are indebted to you, gentlemen,
and beg of you to accept our gratitude." Non far nienteno indeed," we
returned, "the pleasure is ours, and we were delighted to be of service to you."
As the train was about to pull out I held out my hand, saying, Wellso
long." Ignoring my proffered hand, he said, You are an enemy of mineof my
country. You both have my thanks for your servicesbut I cannot touch your
handsI am sorry."
I merely raised my hat, rejoining with, Hope you have a pleasant trip," and
we left them.
