oardings, the way
in which a pennyworth will nourish and rejoice the human frame is, as
the Americans say, something fierce. If the applause of the company was
a guide, this prizewinner is a very popular figure among our "National
fillers." The second prize went to a very ingenious costume called
"Tommy's Parcel," consisting of most things that a soldier likes to
receive, and so thorough in design as to comprise, tied to the lady's
shoes, two packets of a harmful necessary powder without a copious
sprinkling of which no trench is really like home. If the approving
glances at "Tommy's Parcel" from a young officer who was at my side are
any indication, there are few of our warriors who would not welcome it
with open arms.

And then--the prizes being all awarded--all these nice girls, on whose
activities England has been so largely depending for safety, set again
to partners.

But why, you ask, Gambogia? I thought you would want to know that. It is
because in the making of munitions at the factory from which these girls
all come there are certain chemicals which have the effect of turning
the skin yellow. And among these merry revellers were some thus--but, I
hope and believe, only temporarily--disfigured. The cheerfulness with
which they are prepared to run these risks, not to mention others more
perilous but less menacing to personal vanity, is not the least of the
finenesses of character which the war has brought out; and the thought
of that and of their hard work and their gay courage made the spectacle
of the happy high spirits of this evening of playtime even more a
satisfaction.

The Misfire

When I entered the third smoker there was, as there now always is, a
soldier in one corner.

Just as we were starting, another soldier got in and sat in the opposite
corner; and within two minutes they knew all about each other's camp,
destination and regiment, and had exchanged cigarettes.

The first soldier had not yet left England and was stolid; the new-comer
had been in the trenches, had been wounded in the leg, had recovered,
was shortly going back, and was animated. His leg was all right, except
that in wet weather it ached. In fact he could even tell by it when we
were going to have rain. His "blooming barometer" he called it. Here he
laughed--a hearty laugh, for he was a genial blade and liked to hear
himself talk.

The first soldier did not laugh, but was interested. He thought it a
convenient thing