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260 chewed up a good picket fence before coming to great grief. A peevish aviator in a strange land, far from home, speaking not the language; can you imagine it? As itwas recounted to me the business of telephoning headquarters, drinking the proffered wine of the sympathetic villagers, getting eatables and a bed, was one comedy of errors after another. From the numerable experiences of this nature I am led to believe that the French are still more hospitable than I had at first thought, for upon accumulated evidence it seems the aviator who comes to a mishaps is always offered a wine to revive his good spirits, then is solicited to become madame's or monsieur's guest at the nearby thatched-cottage or grand chateau.