6. Soup kitchens—good, wholesome meals provided for ten cents. There are a number scattered over Paris, frequented by men and women of good positions before the war. Old artists and musicians out of work, professors who have lost their jobs, refugees from Lille, Courtrai and the invaded provinces, widows and girls with no means, little dressmakers and milliners without custom—a sad patient crowd who come silently and humbly to eat the bitter bread of charity. One group of ladies at the Hotel Mercedes (placed at their disposal) provides four hundred meals daily. L'Oeuvre du Blesse au Travail (objects made by wounded soldiers) are showing in handsomely arranged shops, articles made by the men as they lie wounded in their beds. These articles consist chiefly of baskets of finely plaited straw, some artistically colored and of charming designs; others made by clumsier hands, crude but interesting—lace mats of plaited ribbon; string bags of macramé work; penholders and pencils, fashioned from spent cartridges. Rings made from the aluminum tips of exploded German shells picked up in the French trenches—these are very cunningly made and are often very handsome in design and execution. Every man, woman and child wants one of these rings, but as their only value is being "genuine," i. e., made in the trenches by a soldier, from the real shell tip, there are naturally not enough to go 'round. Flowers made out of bread, tinted and modeled to an exact imitation of Dresden flowers, stand in little gilt baskets, also made by the soldier. Dolls as Red Cross nurses, soldiers, doll furniture and houses, boxes, baskets, no end of tempting little things are displayed and sold by the ladies of the committee, who guarantee the genuineness of each object. Then there is the "Journée," or a day is chosen with the approval of the government, committees are formed in all the cities, towns, and villages of France. Bands of young girls and children start out early to sell flags or boutonnierés or rosettes, on the steps of the churches, at the railroad station, in the public squares and streets, holding their little pincushions stuck with flags, or scraps of ribbon, with a sealed tin box for coins. Thus, enormous sums are collected for the various war works, and every one, no matter how poor or humble, can give his offering. Besides these charities, innumerable "Ouvroirs" exist in every city. Sewing-rooms, where poor women are paid (and fed) to make shirts, chemises, belly-bands, socks, pyjamas, etc., and everyone is thus helped through the long, hard winter. Women are taking men's places all over France. Women are in the munition factories, in the government postoffice and telegraph service, as tramway conductors, as metro ticket collectors—places they never dreamed of filling before the war, for the Frenchwoman is essentially a home-body, her "intérieur" (home) being dearer to her than all else; to take these masculine occupations is especially hard.