The chivalrous man, moreover, is never unfair nor unmerciful. War-time makes a big demand on the qualities of fairness and mercy. Thank God our Nation has, on the whole, and despite terrible provocation, shown itself to be a chivalrous foe to the enemy. If you are going to be chivalrous, there is no room for vengeance or retaliation. Soldiers and sailors know this by instinct, and act accordingly. I always notice that it is newspaper people, and people who sit snug in their arm-chairs at home, who talk so loud about reprisals and retaliation. In the trenches it’s quite different. When Thomas Atkins takes a prisoner he generally offers him a cigarette. As an Officer said the other day, "Tommy’s only idea, when he catches these fellows, is to feed them." At least that is his usual practice, whatever his theories are about what he will do to the "blanked Hun" when he catches him. A recent number of _Punch*[2] had a lovely description of Thomas Atkins’ vengeance. A Cavalry outpost in Egypt, sweltering in the heat, devoured by mosquitoes, in a temper reflecting the choice surroundings, decides that the only thing to do with wandering parties of the treacherous Arabs is to shoot them at sight. Sudden report from the sentry: "Corporal, I can see ’alf-a-dozen of them blighters coming along about a mile away. Shall I give ’em one?" "No, you idiot," says the Corporal, "Let’s ’ave a look at ’em first." There arrives on the scene a middle-aged Arab, dressed in indescribable rags, and in the last stage of exhaustion, and decidedly populous as to his person; various members of his family are hovering about a short distance away. He falls flat on his face at the sight of the Corporal, crying, "Bimbashi, bimbashi, mongeries, mongeries." "Yes, I’ll bash yer all right," says the Corporal, "Grey-’eaded old reprobate, you ought to know better." "Lor’," comments one of the Troopers, "’e do look thin, pore beggar, *Mongeries_--that means food, don’t it? ’E looks as if ’e hadn’t eaten nothing for weeks. ’Ere, ’ave a biscuit, old Sport." "Try ’im with some bully," suggests another Trooper; "they say they won’t eat that, though." "Won’t ’e!" says the first, "I never seen the stuff go so quick. ’Ere, old fellow, don’t eat the tin." "Don’t give him any more," says the Corporal, "or ’e’ll kill ’isself. Let’s see if his family can do the disappearing trick as quick as he can. Poor devils they’ve been through something. ’Ere, you family, _mongeries_." The family are brought up and fed on the day’s rations. "Take ’em back to camp now," orders the Corporal, "and ’and ’em over. Come on, old boy; you’re all right. Lor’, ain’t they pretty near done. Lucky they found us when they did." Such is the way of Thomas ... and it is the way of chivalry; and that is the way of Christ. "If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirsts, give him drink."