bountiful rations to all who could eat. I can call my pinafore to
testify to my good will in the work, for in ten minutes it was
reduced to a perambulating bill of fare, presenting samples of
all the refreshments going or gone. It was a lively scene; the
long room lined with rows of beds, each filled by an occupant,
whom water, shears, and clean raiment, had transformed from a
dismal ragamuffin into a recumbent hero, with a cropped head. To
and fro rushed matrons, maids, and convalescent "boys,"
skirmishing with knives and forks; retreating with empty plates;
marching and counter-marching, with unvaried success, while the
clash of busy spoons made most inspiring music for the charge of
our Light Brigade:

"Beds to the front of them,
Beds to the right of them,
Beds to the left of them,
Nobody blundered.
Beamed at by hungry souls,
Screamed at with brimming bowls,
Steamed at by army rolls,
Buttered and sundered.
With coffee not cannon plied,
Each must be satisfied,
Whether they lived or died;
All the men wondered."

Very welcome seemed the generous meal, after a week of suffering,
exposure, and short commons; soon the brown faces began to smile,
as food, warmth, and rest, did their pleasant work; and the
grateful "Thankee's" were followed by more graphic accounts of