Talleyrand once wittily said that language was given us to hide our thoughts, and this saying might be enlarged by adding that slang was given us to hide our language. The Frenchman, in making this witticism, was referring not only to the beautiful language of Corneille and Molière, but to speech in general. However, if he visited the lines of the Canadian or British troops today, even though his knowledge of English were perfect, he would hear many words and expressions not found in the dictionaries of any country or heard in polite society.

Necessity is the mother of invention. It seems that in all national or international games, such as the sport of our American allies—baseball—or the sport of kings and emperors—war—necessity demands that a special language shall evolve. And so, around each and in the midst of each, an expressive, though sometimes inelegant, slang has grown up, understood and employed only by the initiated. In the case of the present war this slang is made up of a mixture of English, French, pantomime, and American or Canadian.

Some people give North America credit for a language of its own. On a visit to Paris some years ago I was passing the entrance of a theater on the Boulevard des Capucines when a grisette approached me with a "bon soir, cheri"; and proceeded to ask if I were lonely. Not desiring to be bothered, I replied shortly that I did not speak French.

"Oh, zat ees tres bien, monsieur," she replied coyly, "I spik zee A-mer-ee-can."

And many of our own brothers of the motherland do not admit that we Canadians speak the same language as they, but an accented modification of it, though they admire the pointedness of many of our expressions. I well remember the amusement caused in an English officers\' mess by one of them telling the others that he had heard a Canadian say that he liked "the Englishman\'s accent." And with that charmingly bantering way that Englishmen have, he said with a smile to a couple of us Canadians present:

"Rawtha a jolly bit of side! Cawnt you see it, you priceless old things?" And at his request we all filled our glasses again; while one of the Canadians, for the sake of argument, expressed the opinion that the term accent might as truly be applied to the Englishman\'s "rawtha," as to our rather; or to the English "bawth," as to our harder-sounding and not so euphonious, but probably equally correct pronunciation of the word, bath. Of course, he was met by good-natured smiles of tolerance and pity, and the reply that since we think their pronunciation shows more euphony, why do we not pronounce as they do?

"Because if we did someone at home would probably hand us an over-ripe egg," was the answer.

The slang of the lines resembles a new system of Esperanto, since it takes in, in a cosmopolitan manner, all the languages of the neighborhood, as well as some whose existence may be doubted. For example, "no bon" means no good, and is a mixture of English, French, and a disgusted look.

"Na poo" (which is probably a mutilated form of the French "il n\'y en a plus,"—there is no more) has a most versatile meaning, and is used in many different senses. Sometimes it signifies that some article of the rations is finished, as "the rum is na poo"—a not uncommon state of affairs. At other times it is used as we employ the slang phrase, "nothing doing."

For instance, one man asks another to have a drink, and he, having put himself, or having been put, on the Indian list, replies, "na poo for mine." Then there is the sense in which it is used meaning "killed." Bill Jones is killed, and somebody says, "Well, they na poo\'d Bill Jones last night. Poor Bill, he wasn\'t such a bad old —— —— —— after all." (In the air service, when a man is killed, they often employ the expression that "so-and-so is gone east.") The above will illustrate, but by no means exhaust, the versatility of "na poo," for in variety of meaning it is almost in a class by itself.

"Compree" is another sample of broken—one could not say Anglicized—French, and it is employed with the signification, "do you understand?" or, in slang-Canadian, "do you get me, Steve?" And here it may be remarked that a Tommy possessing the above three expressions, na poo, no bon, and compree, with some additions from the sign language, although he knows no other word of French, is able to do anything with the French peasant from using his cook-stove to heat a tin of pork and beans to making love to his daughter. Of course the latter effort is no doubt helped by the fact that love is much the same in all languages.

Then all the different shells and types of trench-mortar ammunition have their nicknames, such as pineapples, rum jars, flying pigs, Jack Johnsons, fish tails, and whizz-bangs, all according to their shape, their sound, or the fuss they make when landing.

"To put on a show," is to make an attack on the enemy. "To get pipped" means to get wounded. If the wound is severe enough to cause the recipient to be sent to England, it is called a "Blighty," in which case, if the wound is not dangerous to life or limb, the others stand about looking enviously at the wounded man, and telling him he is a lucky devil. But if the wound is fatal, they say "he got his R.I.P."

The above will serve to illustrate the more common slang phrases used by the soldier and officer alike, for what Tommy does today his officers do tomorrow. There are, of course, many other slang expressions, some being more vulgar than expressive. Occasionally a group of men will impress you with the idea that they are so accustomed to slang and swearing that to call each other "a blank liar" is a password, as Kelly expressed it to me one time. And in passing it may be said that though words which would be fighting words in western Canada are common enough, fighting among the men is exceedingly uncommon. Good nature and good fellowship are universal, and it is rare indeed that even the hottest argument leads to blows. Probably the boys have instinctively decided that blows are for your enemies, not for your friends, and that fighting enough is to be had on the other side of No Man\'s Land.

But slang, swearing, or general "toughness" is no proof that a man is not an excellent soldier. Out there we have found that cool courage and self-sacrifice are as common among the denizens of the slum or the employees of the workshop or factory as among those who spend their time following the hounds or adorning drawing-rooms. Education and culture may develop the virtues, but they do not create them. By the same token poor or unhealthy surroundings may stultify the same virtues, but do not kill them.

I well recall a rough, uneducated, Irish-Canadian boy from Griffintown, who was in charge of a group of machine-gunners, and who was afraid of nothing on the earth, under the earth or over the earth. Fagan—that name will do as well as another—went up with his company to go over the top in an attack, but at the last moment they were ordered not to advance. A company of Oxford and Bucks just to Fagan\'s right were going over, and he, being disappointed at the cancellation of his order, pretended that he had not received it, joined the British with his section and went into the fight with them. He was such a bonnie fighter, and was so useful to the British that they were loud in their praises of the work of him and his men; for with his machine-gun he did much useful slaughter which he described on his return as "some beautiful pickin\'s."

On account of his good work and the high praise that it received from the British he was given a special leave of a couple of weeks to the white lights—or what remains of them—in London. As he left his little group of the men of his unit, all of whom loved him and all of whom his generous, brave heart held as brothers, instead of the usual "Good-by, boys, and good luck," he turned to them with a broad grin on his face and said:

"To hell wid yez all! May yez have to go over the top every damn noight whoile Oi\'m away;" and with a wave of the hand, and amidst the laughter of his "byes," he started for the railhead.

But slangy sayings and swearing are not limited in use to the boys. A Major Garwell was somewhat noted for this habit, and sometimes spat out remarks quite thoughtlessly in company in which it were better he had not done so. On one occasion he had to interview a staid, dignified Major General Osborne of an English Corps to our left, and, differing in opinion with the latter, to the horror of the other officers present, he exclaimed vehemently without even knowing that he said it:

"But, damn your eyes, Osborne, that trench should run the other way."

To everyone\'s surprise the Major General only stared at him, seeing no doubt that it was a slip of the tongue, and not intentional disrespect. He also probably took into account the fact that the Major was a Canadian, from whom Englishmen hardly ever know what to expect in the line of discipline.

But a week later the English General showed that beneath a serious and dignified exterior he had a well-developed sense of humor. He was again discussing some engineering problem with our gallant Major before much the same group of officers, and turning suddenly he blurted out:

"But, damn your eyes, Garwell, I want this done my way." The General himself and even Garwell joined in the roar of laughter which followed. And now you have the reason that from that day to this the Canadian Major is always spoken of as "damn-your-eyes-Garwell."