When an army has to live in tents, a certain amount of dampness is almost certainly inevitable. But if proper drains are dug around them, and every advantage taken of the sunlight, much can be done to avoid what frequently ends in rheumatism or pneumonia. It pays to construct good cinder roads in all the camp lines and to see to it that the approaches to the individual tents are prepared in the same way. When we were first dumped down in a field of clay in the Midlands of England and told to prepare it for the horse lines to accommodate the sixteen hundred horses that were due in a few days, we were faced with a colossal task. We were all turned into navvies, and long before we even had shelter for the horses they had arrived. It was a most tedious business to construct lines for them in December in England, and we had to cart many hundreds of tons of cinders and rock to make the place possible. For weeks we worked at it, and there were complaints from the men that they had not joined the army to be navvies. They had joined it to fight, so they said. But when the stables were finished and they could approach the lines over nice smooth dry roads they realised that their labour had not been in vain. There is usually a fitting return in health from all the labour invested in the preparation of a good camp. Another place in which officers and non-commissioned officers must be on the alert for filth, is the cook house. This is true in winter as well as in summer time. It has been my experience that the laziest and dirtiest men volunteer for the task of cook. The reason is that they are able to get the choicest portions for themselves, be free from the bore of attending drills and parades, and get a little higher pay, besides what they can get from the soldiers on the side for little favours. In an army such as was formed in England at the beginning of the war it was impossible to get enough trained cooks for the work, and all sorts of men were run in for the job. Many of them were thoroughly lazy and incompetent. There was, of course, a rooted objection to calling in the aid of women--though few of us ever think of employing men to do our cooking in private life--and when we suggested it for the purpose of improving the grade of our food in the Officers' Mess, we were met with the reply that it had never been done. That was the reason for keeping out a good many reforms in Dear Old England. But by strategy on our part, and by the eventual demands of the stomachs concerned that some change be made, we were able to introduce a woman manager for the mess kitchen. She reformed everything, including the costs of the food. Our mess bills were considerably reduced, the food was better cooked, and we got a variety that had never seemed to occur to the late robbers that we had employed. When England began to feel the want of fighting men, it entered the brains of some of the Brass Hat officials that this was a sphere in which the women could well