Apelghem finds her mahogany chest-of-drawers in Madame Puchon's cellar, or Monsieur Verlane his brand-new cooking-stove firmly cemented into the bedroom of that doubtful lady Ma'm'selle Frisson! With what regret did we leave this home-like mess to take the road once more, and with what true instinct did the senior subaltern insist upon the loading into the last lorry of the best loved of the portraits, so that it might follow the battery in all its wanderings as a perpetual memory of happy days! It was a truly fearsome enlargement of a terribly ugly little girl, her face, with the mouth hanging open, bearing an expression of acute agony, her hands crossed over the region where the pain might be expected to be, her toes turned in despondently. "The Flatulent Child" we christened her, yet perhaps none of us, gazing into those inexpressive eyes, can fail to remember days whose happiness will always be a precious memory to us all. The food question practically solves itself; rations of surpassing quality are provided in quantities that tax the keenest appetite to consume, all that remains is to cook them and to provide such delicate extras as may be desired. And in that same provision of extras there lies many a snare. France is not a desert and savage land, as, judging by the preparations that a conscientious mess secretary makes before he embarks, one might expect to find it, and nearly everything that one wants can be obtained in the towns behind the line at very reasonable prices. We had arranged with a large firm in England to send us fortnightly supplies, and there our troubles began. The firm played their part nobly, and beginning with the day we set out upon our adventures, sent regularly the fortnightly consignments. But heavy artillery owes no allegiance to division or army corps, but wanders like some distended bumblebee about the line, sipping honey in the shape of rations now from this point, now from that, until the Military Forwarding Officers, the Railway Transport Officers, and all the host of curiously termed people whose business it is to play trains in this distracted land, lose all count of the whereabouts of any particular battery. The result of this to us was that for six weeks after our arrival in France we heard nothing of our long-expected delicacies, despite frantic journeys to railhead after railhead, and piteous applications to supply officers all over the country. By this time we had learnt that we could get what we wanted close at hand, and had ceased to worry about them, when one day we received a message that some stores were awaiting us at a certain station forty miles away. Seizing a favourable opportunity, we dashed over there in the battery car and secured the first consignment, and being by that time fairly well settled, we left instructions for the forwarding of any subsequent lots that might turn up. Then the accumulation of the fruitless weeks began to pour in upon us. At every tactical crisis the