palate. It can only be conveyed through the nose in a sort of muffled and secretive manner, thus.' The captain made a little noise, something between a sigh and sniff, and continued: "The general's name, when written, was Tn, but you will agree with me that writing is quite unable to do justice to its exceeding diminutiveness. Let us drink the Chinaman's health, and part friends, for this talk of little names has already brought us into the small hours.' So we all stood up, with glasses filled, and having by a general sniff endeavoured to articulate the name of General Tn, we went home rather crest-fallen. But as I lay in bed that night, preposterously awake, and more alive to every sound than was ever Indian on the war-trail (as it is the wont of persons lying awake to be), my mind leapt on a sudden on a name shorter and more incapable of being pronounced than even that of the Chinese general, and one more famous by far; for to it have been epics dedicated in the earliest heroic times, and to it have been tenderest sonnets penned up to posttime, and too late for that, but yesterday. Nay, doubtless, even while I thought upon it, many a youthful lover, male and female, by gaslight or by moonlight, and in the distant antipodes, where the sun was shining broadly, was occupied, with heart, and soul, and rhyming dictionary, in singing its praises. A name that has stood for Time, and Place, and Person-a name too sacred to be uttered, too ethereal to be impressed on paper with quill, or steel, or type, and yet familiar as the most household word to every generation of readers, and especially to those of the present day, and of the popular periodicals. Need I say that that name is -; suggestive 'dash,' as I believe the printers call it, which our gross speech, alas, can only render as Blank. If no subscriber to this Journal has ever beheld in it a 'Sonnet to he ought straightway to send its editor some substantial proof of his grateful homage, some testimony of his perception of the unceasing vigilance which must have been exercised over his favourite columns. The uncertain fate of volunteer contributions to magazines has often been described (ungrammatically as well as falsely enough) as 'a perfect lottery.' We ourselves-the we editorialmay reply, with confidence, that taking a perfect lottery' to mean 'all prizes, and no blanks,' that term would be anything but applicable to the contributions themselves. The amount of -s is prodigious. 'To Singing;''To asleep in his Crib;' To in Hospital;' To upon his Successful Ascent in the - Balloon; 'To- Dying' (It is unnecessary to give way to emotion, for we know we shall see him again.); ‘To- Drowned in the Sea.' (We are always being drowned in the Sea of -s ourselves, and have got to think nothing of it.) Here is another set of poetical tributes to the same adorable being, which we take haphazard out of the iron chest (fireproof) to which all our most valuable manuscripts are consigned: 'To with a Rose; ' To with a Pair of [mosaic?] Gold Ear-rings;' 'To with a Cold in her Head' (This last, however, belongs rather to the former class.); To with an In Memoriam;' 'To with a Copy of Original Verses;' 'To with a Copy of the Record Newspaper;' 'To with the Forgiveness of a Distracted Lover;' 'To with a Tortoise-shell Tom Cat.' - Surely there is no name that can be compared to for variety of even amiable attributes, and these are but one side of its multifarious self. is also a Tyrant, a Perjured Person, and (very often, indeed) a gay Lothario of the most abandoned character. Nor is it in poetry only that has an undisputed pre-eminence. Juvenile writers, moved by fears of action for libel, and destitute of invention to give a fictitious local habitation to the scene of their story, always lay the same at inshire. In order still further to avert the eye of suspicion, they place the period of the events described in 18-; and since they have of course concealed the names of their hero, heroine, and subordinate characters under the same friendly shield, their literary efforts are sometimes a little wanting in human interest. We have most of us heard of the merchant who found himself nearly L.2000 richer than he ought to have been, in consequence of having added the year of our Lord to his balance in hand, but his confusion was as nothing compared to that of the reader of a romance in which Time, and Place, and Person are indicated alike by a single straight line. There have even been some instances where the Christian and surname have both been concealed in this fashion, by means of a double blank (- -), a thing one has never heard of except in a game at dominoes. The latest example of this kind of writing that has reached our hands commences as follows, and we beg to express our regret to its accomplished author that want of space prevents our printing more of it. 'It was on a lovely evening in "the merry month of May" 18, that two travellers might have been seen by the least observant eye (for they were mounted, the one upon an Arab steed, the other upon one of those gigantic quadrupeds originally imported from Flanders) descending the winding road that leads into the village of than which no lovelier the hamlet is to be found in all fair -shire. the elder, was a gentleman of good family, residing in the immediate neighbourhood at an ancestral mansion, whose Elizabethan chimneys could be dimly seen through the budding elm-trees; younger, was of equally noble birth, but by the extravagance of his grandfather (but too well known to the sporting world as — of Hall), had been reduced to comparative poverty. Unlike in years and worldly prosperity, they were yet exceedingly like in one circumstance (and one, too, which may be called the pivot of all human affairs), they were both in love with one whom, from motives of delicacy (and because our story is "an o'er true tale," alas), we shall designate as ;' &c. It Our talented contributor adjures us, that in case this literary effort is rejected (which, however, he cannot imagine should be the case'), we will at least give him our editorial opinion upon its merits. is not our usual custom so to do, because such opinion is never considered satisfactory by the recipient, but in his particular case we make a special exception. We hereby inform him that a tale with so many in it must necessarily be Blank in interest; and will be designated by a large portion of the reading public (male) as nonsense. 'ON THE MOVE.' FARMER BARR of Dalton More Has a busy stir about his door Fragments of packing, and scattered hay, Full of importance and prudent care, But the farmer's wife of Dalton More, And she weeps as she leaves the door. Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON, and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH. Also sold by all Booksellers. THE PAINS AND MITIGATIONS OF POLISHED LIFE. A CERTAIN Government was once described as a Despotism tempered by Epigrams, and Good Society may be similarly characterised as a Tyranny miti gated by Wives. I do not mean to contend that wives in the best circles' are mitigations in other respects, for I am well aware that they are considered, by many husbands, in a very opposite light. It is with the vulgar only that the wife is held to 'halve a man's sorrows and double his joys;' while with persons of fashion like ourselves, she has, perhaps, precisely the reverse effect. But let us give the enchantress (for such she was at one time) her just due. Could we go about in a close carriage from three till six committing morning-calls? Could we make small-talk, and smile, and smile, and smile, and be a social hypocrite by daylight, in a hundred different drawing-rooms every year? Could our lips frame such fairy falsehoods as the following? What an age, it seems, my dear Lady Beeswax, since we met!'-'How charmingly well you're looking !'-'We were so very sorry that we could not come to you on the 6th; if it had but happened that we had been engaged elsewhere, I do believe that we should have been very wicked, and ran away to you instead: but, alas! we had people to dinner at home.'-' The fact is, our horses have been ill, and we have been calling on nobody; I feel positively ashamed at shewing my face anywhere, but I know with an old friend like you, no apology is necessary. How is your pretty parrot? Poll! Poll! Poll!' Reader of the male sex, could you make such remarks as these-not once, nor twice, nor thrice-but ever so many times per diem every season? You know you couldn't. You have neither the talent nor the immoral courage for it. Truth-vulgar truthwould find its way to your lips, in spite of your utmost efforts, and you would say something rude and natural. It is true that there are bachelors in Good Society (And a great many more than there ought to be,' says Lady FitzRabbets), but when they 'call,' they are silent; when they venture, I say, to do more than leave their cards at the door, or their names in the visitors-book, they are for the most part speechless. They have looked out for the very finest afternoon, and made up their minds that the people would not be at home, and now that they find PRICE 14d. themselves mistaken, they are in a state of mental collapse. They hold the rim of their hats firmly in both their hands, and sit listening with eager ears for the next ring at the front-door bell. They are in the chamber of torture; there is no chloroform to be procured, and no one to bear the pain vicariously for them; for they have no wife. 'Oh, blessings on her frosty pow,' say I, 'who saves us these inflictions!' For it does not signify in the least how old she is. One's wife may be threescore-years-and-ten, or even twenty, and yet 'call.' When a man is married, he becomes, singularly enough, a free man, not only in this respect, but in many others. The precarious state of his dear wife's health' is one of the greatest social blessings to him conceivable. He evades the most dreadful civilities upon this tender plea. Nothing would have given him greater pleasure than to have accepted Borem's (Q.C.) invitation to dinner, but the state of his wife's health is, unhappily, such that unremitting attention for the present is necessary. Her indisposition, however, is not so severe as to preclude her going to the Opera the same night with some musical friends, and the husband (who does not know B flat from C sharp) takes his rubber at the club. All invitations 'to come in the evening' are rendered innocuous by this charming arrangement; the night-air, says her medical man, is by all means to be avoided by our Clementina, while, as for leaving the dear girl alone, and coming out one's self, we are sure that Lady Negus would be the very last person to advise any such arrangement. Friends in Yorkshire of a sombre cast, but whom it is desirable to conciliate, request our presence for six weeks in the summer at Drearygloom Castle; our reply is, that we had almost expected (from their known habits of hospitality) this delightful invitation, and yet we had hoped that it would not have arrived, since we are compelled to refuse it; for the fact is that Clementina is ordered to Cornwall. Dr Pecheblum has pronounced the air of the Land's End to be indispensable to our beloved invalid. How we wish that Drearygloom was but in the neighbourhood of Penzance! The present writer was once a witness to a verbal contention between two divines of eminence as to whether one might say 'Not at home' when one was at home, without incurring the guilt of falsification. It took place before the ladies at the dinner-table, and therefore the language of the combatants was less unmeasured than is apt to be the case in moral discussions; the steam, however, was at high-pressure, and very anxious to escape. "There is no use in disputing further, sir,' observed A; a man of principle would scorn to behave as you suggest; he would give his servant orders to tell the truth-that he was " particularly engaged."' 'Nay, sir,' replied B; 'that might do in London; but if your wife, for instance, does us the honour of calling on us in the country, and has driven seven miles to do it, would she be satisfied, when turned away from the door by the information that we were "particularly engaged?"" You could mention exactly what you were doing,' quoth A majestically. B was driven by opposition into vulgarity. 'Supposing, then, that I was washing my feet' A peal of laughter, such as is rarely heard in the society of canons and archdeacons, here, fortunately, put a stop to further discussion. The ladies rose, and I am not the man to betray the secrets of the antedrawing-room period. Now, one's wife-Heaven forgive her is never troubled with these delicate casuistic questions. She writes her regrets that a previous engagement prevents our having the pleasure, &c., &c., exactly as if it did; in the same microscopic, slanting handwriting in which she would have stated the greatest moral truth. On those perplexing occasions on which one gets two invitations for the same day, and the less pleasant one first, the solution may be safely left in Clementina's hands. Unfortunately,' she writes, 'just before your delightful invitation arrived, we accepted another for the very same date. Ah, how we shall think of you and of your charming party, when we are, alas! elsewhere, for How is it (as my husband and I are always saying) that you manage to pick up all the nicest people that are to be found?' It is the lack of a wife-the want of a shield to protect them against dreadful civilities-which drives so many young men out of the drawing-room into the stable; they become horsey' or 'doggey' in despair, and from a consciousness that they are unable to comply with the exactions of Fashion. For my part, I agree with a certain living author, that 'the horse is an awful animal,' and I abhor the smell of leather; yet, rather than stand for four hours on a July night in a corner of Lord Cramfokes' salons, I would rather sit in his saddle-room, and smoke a short pipe with his groom. It may be small infliction to those who have their position in 'Society' to win, and to whom crowded rooms, and big names mispronounced at the doorway, are a novelty, but to myself, I honestly confess, such entertainments are intolerable. The situation is uncomfortable, the atmosphere is unhealthy, and the conversation is idiotic. If you happen to observe any two young men who emerge together from a scene of this sort about midnight, you will read in their countenances, as they light their cigars on the doorstep, an expression of enfranchisement which it is impossible to mistake. Before retiring to rest, they are going to look in at their Club-that haven for which they have sighed these two hours, and whither dreadful civilities cannot pursue them; for one's house is only one's Castle, liable to sack and siege; but one's Club is enchanted ground, whereon not even far-spreading crinoline dares impinge, and wherein you may take your gloves off and yawn to your heart's content. What a curious system of taboo we live under! How odd it is that one should be forbidden to yawn! This cannot be an offence against the laws of nature. Hodge in the turnip-field is surely unconscious of crime when he yawns in the presence of the opposite sex, who are turnip-hoeing also. It is doubtful whether he even knows that it is wrong to whistle. If you gave him Seltzer Water, he would infallibly reject what he could of it, with the most obvious symptoms of apprehension and distaste. An American gentleman, by this time, doubtless, a majorgeneral, but at one period a backwoodsman in humble circumstances, has made printed confession, that the effect of his first bottle of soda-water was to terrify him with the notion that he was about to lose an important feature; his words are: 'It fairly fetched my breath away when it went down; and not only that, let me tell you, but presently, it came up again a-fizzing and a-biling ready to blow my nose off.' Considering with what impunity we ourselves imbibe this liquid, these phenomena are surely interesting. The natural man seems to be in some respects even physically inferior to the man of civilisation; for, perceive him with fish before him, and only a fork to eat it with, as was the case with all of us a year or two ago, before those silver knives came into fashion, which, in some cases, reappear with the dessert. Mark him, I say, with the slice of infirm turbot, or (still more strikingly) with a red mullet upon his plate in its paper cover. He glances furtively around him, and perceiving his neighbours each with a piece of bread in his left hand, he essays to make use of the same inefficient means to eliminate his food. It is worse than eating with chop-sticks. He endeavours in vain to satisfy his hunger, retarded not only by the inefficiency of his implements, but by the distressing circumstance that every now and then he forgets the peculiar mission of the piece of bread, and bolts it. The notion of the poor savage has hitherto been that bread is useful as food only, and in the present case the temptation so to treat it is increased by the sauce in which he has been certain to immerse it. A man with thirty thousand a year may use a steel knife with salmon if he pleases.* And so also, singularly enough, may one whose income is but thirty pounds sterling. But between those poles lie all degrees of men in chains and fetters of custom. Let us conclude with a terrible example of this state of slavery. A soldier-friend of ours, from India, where pale ale, as everybody knows, is the elixir of life, chanced to dine, immediately after his return to England, in Belgrave Square. The dinner was in accordance with the situation-that is to say, exceedingly good. Every wine that the tongue of man pronounces with rapture was there in profusion, besides several German ones, whose titles our friend could not pronounce; but in vain did he strain his eyes towards the sparkling sideboard for an appearance of bottled Beer. There were tankards, indeed, or silver somethings which mocked the lips by suggesting the idea of tankards; but their polished rims were crowned with none of that creamy froth, compared to which the foam of champagne is as moonlight unto sunlight. As to asking the butler for his favourite liquor, our friend would as soon have thought of asking him for tripe, for that solemn dignitary was aristocratic in the very highest degree, more noble-looking than the host-albeit he was a peer of the realm, with blood as blue as the bag which maternal care applied to our infant nose when stung by wasps-and more venerable in mien than the bishop himself who had blessed the repast at its commencement. No, the butler would never do; consumed by the desire for pale ale as our friend was, and rendered bold by want, like a wolf in winter, even the Indian hero hesitated to address so great a man upon so low a theme. But among the flock of canary-coloured footmen, who have an allowance for powder, and spend it in flour, there was one less stupendous and haughty than his fellows, in whose countenance the unhappy guest seemed to read no little human feeling. While affecting, therefore, to help himself to some exquisite dainty that this man was offering to him, our friend whispered hastily Pale ale, please.' The canary-coloured footman could not believe his ears; placing his artificially aged head upon one side, in the too intelligent fashion of the bird whose plumage he had borrowed, he said: 'I beg your pardon, sir: I did not catch what you said.' Our oriental friend had been accustomed to be obeyed, and that instantly. Pale ale,' observed he, a little louder; and then added, sotto voce, some Indian word which might mean, 'you ludicrously attired and grimacing idiot.' The canaried one, imagining that this unheard end of the sentence must be very important, again put himself in the attitude of obtrusive attention, and every eye at table became involuntarily directed to himself and my unhappy friend. 'Beer!' exclaimed the Indian hero in a voice that has been often heard above the din of battle, and the medals upon his manly chest clashed together as he spoke in rage. 'Conversation,' observed he, in narrating to me this hideous experience, entirely ceased after that fatal word. Even her ladyship, justly celebrated as she is at the head of a dinner-table, failed to lift it. Every body waited until I should get that Beer. Johannisberg could have been procured by the gallon in that stately mansion, but of the simple liquid which I had demanded, there was not a pint in the house. I ought to have known better than to ask for it, but I had just returned from a land of liberty, which I hope was taken as my excuse. The canaries flocked together and chirped apart; then the butler was consulted, who had been staring right over his master's head in sublime indifference to the calamity which had befallen me. He gave some majestic order. I know he did, though I was ten seats away from him, and had my eyes fixed on my plate. It was one of those awful moments when, like a hare, one sees with the back of one's head. I was clairvoyant to everything that was done both in the room and out of it. I heard the area-gate 'go,' as some female servant rushed out with a can to the public-house; I know she had a can because it tinkled against the railings in her haste, and sounded as distinct amid the stillness of the table as if it had been Westminster chimes. . . . It came at last, but I had no desire for it then. It tasted to me very unlike pale ale. Perhaps the butler had ordered them to fetch some inferior article-that which is called "Twopenny." His lordship observed most good-naturedly: "Come, Sir William, you shall not have that all to yourself: I must take a little too. I am sorry to say that the good old fashion of beer-drinking is going out." But I am quite sure he didn't like it. I have gone through a good deal, but the whole thing forms one of the most dreadful experiences in my life. If I was Mr Thackeray, I would write a Roundabout Paper about it, that would move you to tears.' Yes,' said I, or if you were A. K. H. B., instead of being only A K.C.B., you might write an essay Concerning the asking for Beer at a Dinner-party in Belgrave Square." Since my friend is neither of those two famous personages, I have done it myself. A 'GOOD PLAIN COOK' FOR THE ARMY. If there is one personage more than another to whom the above culinary designation is applicable, it is Captain Grant of the Royal Artillery. This officer is a good plain cook, for he has been the means of giving roast and baked dinners to thousands of soldiers who used to sigh in vain for such a luxury. English taxpayers are hardly aware of the fact, that the troops always had their meat boiled, in barrack and in camp, until about the period of the Crimean war. No provision was made for roasting or baking; : and all the cooking arrangements were wasteful and slovenly. When a regiment is in barracks, the men are grouped into messes or parties, and the dinners for each mess are cooked in one place and at one time. Boiled meat (and the liquor resulting from the process) was their fare day after day; unless the soldiers, out of their poor pittance, contrived to club together, and have their meat baked over potatoes in some neighbouring baker's oven, a plan which the arrangements of some barracks occasionally permitted them to adopt. The official mind had not risen to the dignity of roast-beef for the army. Many officers, however, desired to see their men better provided for; they knew that boiling is not the best mode of developing the nutritious qualities of meat; and they felt convinced that, without a farthing more expense, mess-dinners might be better managed than they were. Among these officers was Captain Grant. He has for eight years been trying to obtain from the authorities some credit and some advantage for what he has effected; but red-tape has not done with the matter yet; and until a few more reams of paper have been covered with correspondence between various departments, commissions, and committees, he will probably have to wait, like many other useful inventors. When the camp at Aldershott was first formed, Captain Grant devised a primitive but effective kind of camp-kitchen that could be constructed in any open spot. He first cut a trench in the ground, and placed over it a covering of thin iron plates, having a central hole in each plate large enough to receive an ordinary camp-kettle or cooking-pot. A chimney was formed at one end of the trough, by piling up sods or peats to the height of three feet; and at the other end of the trench was a fireplace. The meat was only boiled by this plan, it is true; but the troops had thus the means of obtaining a hot dinner every day, with a facility not possible on the older system. When the permanent barracks began to supersede the tents and huts at Aldershott, Captain Grant made such changes as would render his apparatus applicable as a permanent barrack-kitchen. He retained the trench-plan, and economised fuel in a remarkable degree by making the heat from the fireplace travel along the whole length of the trench before reaching the chimney. He also contrived a singular kind of closed oven, to be placed within the chimney itself, whereby the meat could be baked instead of boiled, or baked while other portions are being boiled, without using a single shovelful more of fuel. Such was the economy he introduced by successive improvements, that he made one halfpennyworth of coal suffice for a whole week for three meals a day to each soldier-coffee for breakfast, meat or soup for dinner, and tea in the evening. One cart of coals will cook a dinner for two hundred men-a fact that will probably surprise many a frugal housewife. Military officers have not been slow to acknowledge how much better all this is than the old system for their men. Major-general Mansel, in September 1858, made a report to the War-office to the effect that Grant's apparatus had been found remarkably serviceable and economical at Shorncliffe camp, affording to the soldier the opportunity of baking and boiling at the same fire at the same time. Day after day, for several weeks together, three hundred and sixty pounds of coal sufficed to effect all the baking and boiling of meat, stewing of soup, steaming of potatoes, and boiling of water for coffee and tea for five hundred men; the provisions, if equally divided among all, giving a daily ration to each man of twelve ounces of baked or boiled meat, half a pint of soup, a pound and a half of potatoes, a pint and a half of coffee, and about the same quantity of tea. Since that time, the apparatus has been applied in various places, altered and improved in various ways from time to time-for it is not patented; and Captain Grant has been anxious to adopt any suggestion that will render the working more efficacious. In what ever detailed form it may appear, his camp or barrack kitchen always consists essentially of a long horizontal chamber with a fire at one end and a vertical chimney at the other, holes in the iron cover of the chamber into which cooking-vessels may be placed, and a closed baking-oven in the middle of the chimney. But this is by no means the most remarkable performance of Captain Grant as a good plain cook.' What will the reader think of cooking our dinner as we travel; of having our beef fizzing away, and our soup and potatoes bubbling, as they travel like ourselves, and all done to a turn' by the time the journey is finished? Captain Grant's travelling-kitchen or cooking-wagon, for the use of troops on the march, contains all the necessary apparatus for cooking eight hundred or more rations of meat and soup. The boiler and steamer for this purpose weigh about half a ton; and these, with the fireplace, are so arranged that the whole can be quickly transferred from one wagon to another in case of accidents. From two to four horses are sufficient to draw the wagon and apparatus, according to the nature of the ground. The ordinary Military Train wagons have spare room enough for a supply of compressed vegetables, rice, &c., and other articles necessary to the completeness of the kitchen. A larger kind, called the hospital wagon, is more complete in its fittings, having an oven for baking as well as boilers and steamers. When employed for hospital purposes, instead of the large boiler boiling all the meat, it serves as a reservoir of boiling water, while a number of smaller vessels, surrounding it as satellites, suffice for the treatment of the meat, soup, puddings, vegetables, pastry, rice, coffee, or tea. It is exceedingly interesting to read of the doings of these travelling-kitchens, as described by officers who have every reason to be truthful in speaking of matters affecting the well-being of the troops under their command. On the 22d of August 1859, Majorgeneral Dacres, commandant at Woolwich, took one thousand troops from Woolwich to Dartford, to make a trial of Grant's kitchens. The cooking commenced on the line of march at a quarter before nine in the morning; the troops arrived at Dartford Heath at a quarter past twelve; and by a quarter before one, the thousand rations were all hot and well cooked for the mens' dinner. The fire had to be kept low on the march, in order that the dinner might not be ready for the men before the men were ready for the dinner. On the 3d of November in the same year, the Ordnance Select Committee at Woolwich made another experiment with this apparatus, to determine times, quantities, and qualities more minutely. Rations were provided for 438 men, consisting (besides bread) of beef, vegetables, meal, and barley. The beef was cut up into four-pound pieces, and placed in nets, each net labelled for one mess; the carrots and turnips were placed in similar nets, and labelled; the cabbages, onions, and parsley were washed and cut small; and all, with seventy-seven gallons of water, were placed in the boiler. The potatoes (a peck and a quarter for every twelve men) were placed in nets, and covered with cold water. All being thus far prepared, matters proceeded as follows: At half-past eight in the morning the fire was lighted; at halfpast ten the troops set off on a march from Woolwich Artillery Barracks over Shooter's Hill, taking their kitchen-on-wheels with them. In twenty minutes they halted, and lit the fire of a second apparatus (of the hospital kind), destined for the reception of the potatoes. At a quarter past eleven, another halt was made; the carrots and turnips were taken out of their nets, well mashed, and returned to the boiler; the meat in the nets was taken out of the boiler, and put into two kettles, leaving the soup in the boiler. On they marched again. At twelve o'clock the meat was returned to the boiler, and kept slowly boiling until the potatoes were done, which was effected in the hospital-wagon. By this time the troops had returned to barracks, where they dined on the beef, soup, and vegetables thus cooked during their march. The meal and barley appear to have been used for thickening the soup. The meat was in the ratio of three-quarters of a pound to each man; there was sixpennyworth of potatoes, carrots, turnips, onions, parsley, flour, and barley to each mess of twelve men; we may leave it to any expert market-woman to determine how much was obtainable at this cost. The hospital-wagon was in this experiment used with the battalion-wagon; but in hard field-service the men would dispense with some of these extras, and be glad to get a hot dinner on any terms. On the 12th of July 1860, Major-general Dacres made another trial of the travelling-kitchen at Woolwich, which he described, in a letter to the quarter-master-general, as being thoroughly successful. Lieutenant-general Pennefather, in October 1861, prepared for the quarter-master-general an account of some marchings and campings at Aldershott, during which the kitchen-on-wheels came in for a large share of praise. He said: The great utility, comfort, and advantage to the soldier, in the case of the ambulating-boiler, was strongly exemplified on the morning of the march of the 20th regiment into Aldershott from Woolmer. The boiler was fitted and the fire prepared the evening previous, by the cook of the regiment. One man got up a little before three o'clock in the morning, and lighted the fire. At about half-past four, the men's breakfasts were being issued. Fifteen minutes after the final issue, the wagon was packed and ready for the march. On the other hand, the remaining regiments composing the column were disturbed at an early hour by their cooks endeavouring to prepare the men's coffee, with damp wood to light the fires, upon ground soddened by a heavy fall of dew on the previous night; while the men whose duty it was to carry the kettles were anxious to get them cleaned for carrying in the bags attached to the knapsacks. The saving of fuel was very great, the consumption per diem being at the rate of one pound and seven-eighths instead of three pounds of wood per man.' Here we are told of economy in time, economy in money, and greater comfort. But as foreign service tests all our military arrangements more severely than home, it is satisfactory to know that the 'good plain cook' has been at work in China as well as in England. On the 25th of November 1861, the 67th Regiment of foot made trial of Captain Grant's travelling-kitchen, by order of Brigadier-general Staveley, commanding at Tientsin. Meat, vegetables, and meal, prepared in the usual way for five hundred men, were put into the boiler, the fuel was arranged, and at half-past eleven the fire was lighted. Off they started, troops and kitchen, for a march; and no doubt John Chinaman would have been a good deal surprised if he had known what all this meant. The regiment arrived at its halting-place about one o'clock; and in half an hour more, the savoury contents of the boiler were pronounced to be ready. The officers lunched, and the men dined, on the meat and soup thus prepared; and general encomiums were pronounced. The fuel used was marvellously small, only 120 pounds for 500 men's dinners. Colonel Thomas, of the 67th Regiment, who had the management of the affair, stated in his report that the troops, who had started on their march with a prejudice against the apparatus, changed their minds completely before the day was over. "The ambulating-boiler,' he adds, 'having the advantage of allowing the |