_Defeat the enemy’s attempt to starve you_, by—not by stopping the destruction of food, but by joining the National Service, and probably helping to pick hops. There was a man in a co-operative store who volunteered for National Service, and last month he received instructions _to leave the grocery store and take up duty in a brewery_. _Sow your window-boxes and plant your back gardens_—and Mr. Prothero will see that the soil of a million back gardens is wasted on hops. _We have not enough food to last till the harvest_—why not go out and catch rabbits, asks Lord Devonport—and sit and wait for sparrows? _We must save every pound of bread we can to get over our critical weeks_—not by saving the quartern loaf that beer is taking every month from every British cupboard now, but by going hungry so that drinkers may not thirst. _We must not eat more than our share, on our honour_—but the man across the table can eat his share of bread and drink somebody else’s too. _We must eat less and eat slowly_—so that brewers may waste more and waste quickly. _We must keep back famine_—but not by using malt, says Captain Bathurst: that would cost three times as much as letting famine come. _But why not keep the malt till bread is as dear as gold?_ _Let all heads of households abstain from using grain except in bread_, says the King’s Proclamation. But let the brewers waste 8,000 tons a day for beer, says the Government. _God speed the plough and the woman who drives it_—yes, and God help the woman who drives the plough to feed the brewer while her little ones cry for bread. _Let us fine £5 whoever wastes a loaf_, says the Food Controller—but not, of course, the brewers who waste 450,000 quartern loaves a day. Hops are no use as food to anybody, says the Board of Trade Scientific Committee. “_Then let us grow only half as many_,” said Mr. Prothero.