by a
man coughing. He directed that something be given to this patient.

"Don't want to have one man keep half a dozen awake needlessly," said
the surgeon.

Then there was an officer who could not go to sleep. He was a medical
case, suffering from rheumatism. But what kept him awake was the thought
that he might lose his ship. There was a sailor who had fallen on his
vessel, knocked four of his teeth out, and cut his head. Why he had to
go to "Sick Bay" for such a trifle was beyond him. In the dark hours of
the early morning one might have seen the faithful surgeon again going
through his train, speaking in whispers to those who lay awake, asking
them if there was anything they needed and what pain they had.

"I've got pains all over me, and me 'ead feels scorchin' with the
bangin' that's goin' on inside," said one man.

"That's a grumble to get a drink," said the surgeon, who told the man to
try to go to sleep.

Devonshire was the scene of gladsome sunshine when the train steamed
into the station, delivered certain patients, and picked up others for
another port. In his anxiety to get a truck out of the way to permit the
stretcher-bearers uninterrupted passage to the ambulances, a porter
tipped over six and a half dollars' worth of milk. The patients grinned
at this, and the Surgeon-General on the platform appeared to be sorry
that so much good milk had gone to waste.

The terminus of the train was reached at half-past seven in the evening.
There the coaches were cleared of all patients and the train split in
two to permit of traffic passing. The train-surgeon, having delivered
the valuables of the patients, walked with me to the naval barracks,
where for the first time in thirty-six hours he had a chance to really
rest.

"Chin-chin," said he, lifting his glass. "Another run over, and the
Germans have not come out yet for the real fight."

X. A TRIP IN A SUBMARINE

The man who craves excitement is apt to get his fill for a while after a
trip in a British submarine under the North Sea. He may dream of the
experience for many nights afterwards, and the lip of the conning-tower
well seems to get higher and higher until the water rushes over like an
incipient Niagara--then he awakens.

The wind was blowing about 30 knots when I boarded the mother ship of
the submarines in the English East Coast port. It was an unsettled sort
of morning, and just after I had walked over two narrow planks to the
under-s