forwarding or conveying rations. 'Tommy' is
nothing without a good 'grouse,' but in this respect he is not always
logical; bread which is stale will give him cause to grumble for hours;
but he will rush into the most desperate and bloody work, and suffer
untold misery, without a murmur.

Alluding to the masterpiece of organization, which enables our army to
be fed while in the battle front, Mr. Philip Gibbs, writing in the
_Daily Chronicle_, says: 'The British soldier has at least this in his
favour, in spite of all the horrors of war which has put his manhood to
the test, he gets his "grub" with unfailing regularity, if there is any
possible means of approach to him, and he gets enough and a bit more. It
is impossible for him to "grouse" about that element of his life on the
field. The French soldier envies him and says,--as I have heard one of
them say--"Ma foi! our comrades feed like princes! they have even jam
with their tea! The smell of bacon comes from their trenches and touches
our nostrils with the most excellent fragrance, more beautiful than the
perfume of flowers. The English eat as well as they fight, which is
furiously."'

It may interest my readers to see what a man's daily ration consists of.
This table refers to officers and men alike, for there is no difference
in this respect:--

1-1/4 lb. fresh meat, _or_, 1 lb. preserved meat;
1-1/4 lb. bread;
4 oz. bacon;
3 oz. cheese;
4 oz. jam;
3 oz. sugar;
1/2 lb. fresh vegetables, _or_, 2 oz. dried;
5/8 oz. tea, coffee, _or_ cocoa;
2 oz. tobacco per week, _or_ 50 cigarettes.

This ration is more scientifically arranged than its recipient imagines;
as a matter of fact, it comprises all the essentials which go to build
up the stamina of the fighting man; and thus, well provided with fresh
air, good food, to say nothing of hard exercise, the animal side of Mr.
Thomas Atkins is kept in the pink of condition, and he is able to face
the burdens of life which are incidental to his calling, and which are
not a few, with remarkable ease and success.

Life at the Front is a strange compound of the grave and the gay. One of
the most appealing features is witnessed in the sad lot of the Belgian
refugees, who, often at a moment's notice, have fled from their homes,
leaving all their property to the devastation of war. I have frequently
seen mournful processions on the road, consisting of old and young. It
is heartrending to witness the pitiable l