Overhead Projector

 An overhead projector (often abbreviated to OHP), like a film or slide projector, uses light to project an enlarged image on a screen, allowing the view of a small document or picture to be shared with a large audience.

In the overhead projector, the source of the image is a page-sized sheet of transparent plastic film (also known as "foils" or "transparencies") with the image to be projected either printed or hand-written/drawn. These are placed on the glass platen of the projector, which has a light source below it and a projecting mirror and lens assembly above it (hence, "overhead"). They were widely used in education and business before the advent of video projectors.

Overhead projectors were once a common fixture in most classrooms and business conference rooms, but in the 2000s they were slowly being replaced by document cameras, dedicated computer projection systems and interactive whiteboards.Such systems allow the presenter to project video directly from a computer file, typically produced using software such as Microsoft PowerPoint and LibreOffice. Such presentations can also include animations, interactive components, or even video clips, with ease of paging between slides. The relatively expensive printing or photocopying of color transparencies is eliminated.

 While an overhead can display static images fairly well, it performs poorly at displaying moving images. The LCD video display panels that were once used as an add-on to an overhead projector have become obsolete, with that combination of display technology and projection optics now optimally integrated into a modern video projector.

The Batmobile

 

Batman originates all the way back to 1939 where he was first introduced in Detective Comics. Since then he has grown to become one of the most famous, if not the most famous, superheroes of all time. Batman made it from the comic book pages onto the TV screen in the 1960s when the Batman TV series first aired starring Adam West as Batman/Bruce Wayne.

Both Batman and his companion Robin were two crime fighters there to defend Gotham City, their mode of transport was the Batmobile. 

Frustration

 Frustration is a board game in which players compete to be the first to send four pieces all the way around a board. It is based on a traditional game called "Frustration" played on a wooden board with indentations for marble playing pieces and rules similar to Parcheesi. Pieces are moved according to the roll of a die using a contained device called a "Pop-O-Matic".

Players may move pieces out of their home onto their designated start space only when the die lands on 6. Getting a 6 at any point in the game also allows the player to take another turn, even if the player cannot move any of their pieces (as they cannot land on any of their own pieces). They also may move a new piece out even if they have another piece currently in play, and can also do the same if another player's piece is occupying their "start" space, but cannot do so when one of their own pieces is occupying their "start" space.

Pieces move clockwise around the track. Players can send opponents' pieces back to the start by landing on them. Teaming is not allowed in the game. Pieces are protected from capture after arriving in the final four slots of the finish area. Unlike more complex race games such as Parcheesi, counters cannot be maneuvered to block opponents' moves.

Pop-o-Matic die container

The most notable feature of Trouble is the "Pop-O-Matic" die container. This device is a clear plastic hemisphere containing the die, placed over a flexible sheet. Players, roll the die by pressing down quickly on the bubble, which flexes the sheet and causes the die to tumble upon its rebound. The Pop-O-Matic container produces a popping sound when it is used, and prevents the die from being lost (and players from cheating by improper rolling). It allows for quick die rolls, and players' turns can be performed in rapid succession. 

The Co-operative Dividend Book & Stamps

 

The Co-operative Society revolutionised food retailing with the dividend, often known as 'divi', and the 'divi number', it became a part of British life.

The dividend was a financial reward to customer based on each customer's level of trade with the Co-operative. The distribution of profits on the basis of turnover rather than capital invested is a fundamental difference between a Co-operative and most private sector enterprises.

Customer sales would be recorded in ledgers in the society's stores, at the end of the collection period a proportional payment would be made to the customer.

As the societies grew, the number of customer increased and the method of using ledgers became cumbersome. As a solution the Co-operative issued stamps to customer for qualifying transactions. Customers collected the stamps on a savings card, when the card was complete the customer would use it as payment for goods or deposit into their share account.

The dividend stamps were introduced nationally 1969.

Cadbury Chocolate Dispenser

 

Nearly every child must have owned one of these as a child, it is a timeless classic & is still in production to this day.

It was a chocolate dispenser that doubled up as a money box. By putting in a coin you got a mini block of Dairy Milk in return & when you ran out of chocolate you could buy a whole new packet to replace them but most parents never bothered.

Stylophone

The Stylophone is a miniature analog electronic keyboard musical instrument played with a stylus. Invented in 1967 by Brian Jarvis, it entered production in 1968, manufactured by Dubreq.

Some three million Stylophones were sold, mostly as children's toys, but they were occasionally used by professional musicians such as John Lennon, Kraftwerk and David Bowie.

The Stylophone consists of a metal keyboard made of printed circuit board and is played by touching it with a stylus. Each note on the keyboard is connected to a voltage-controlled oscillator via a different-value resistor, and touching the stylus to the keyboard thus closes a circuit. The only other controls are a power switch and a vibrato control on the front panel beside the keyboard, and a tuning potentiometer on the rear.

The Stylophone was available in standard, bass and treble variants, but the standard version was the most common. There was also a larger version called the 350S with more notes on the keyboard, various voices, a wah-wah effect that was controlled by moving the hand over a photosensor and two styluses.

In the mid-1970s, a new model appeared that featured simulated wood on the speaker panel and a volume control. However, production of the Stylophone ceased in 1975.

Entertainer Rolf Harris served for several years as the Stylophone's advertising spokesman in the United Kingdom and appeared on many "play-along" records sold by the manufacturer.[

Golden Nuggets - Cereal

 

Golden Nuggets were introduced in the 1970s in the United Kingdom and the United States, manufactured by Nabisco. They were then withdrawn from the UK market in the late 1970s.

However, they were brought back to the UK in 1999 with a £1 million advertising campaign, perhaps in response to demand from people who had enjoyed them in the 1970s and now had their own children.[citation needed]

The packaging features various cartoon characters (drawn by Gary Dunn): Klondike Pete (a gold prospector who mines Golden Nuggets), his mule Pardner, his enemies - two claim-jumpers named Plum Loco Louie and Boot Hill Bob (jointly "The Breakfast Bandits") - and a Golden Nuggets Bee.[2] The Klondike Pete character was also used in the 1970s to market the US version of the cereal, Klondike Pete's Crunchy Nuggets.[3][4] The box also sometimes features puzzles suited to the 7–12-year-old range.[citation needed] The cereal is marketed with the slogan "They taste Yeee-Haa!"[5] (Previously "They're honey-crunchin' good!").

Signet Ring

The history of signet or seal rings is lengthy and illustrious, dating back to 1400 BC when ancient signet rings were first worn by the Mesopotamian and ancient Egyptian civilisations. Throughout history, antique and vintage signet rings were often decorative and beautiful, however they were also highly functional items which played an important administrative role within society. By pressing the signet ring into hot wax or soft clay, a distinctive impression would be left that then functioned as an official seal or ‘signature'.

In ancient Egypt, pharaohs and nobles used distinctive antique signet rings made of hardstone or a blue pottery called faience. In the Middle Ages, antique signet rings were used by wealthy, powerful individuals to sign and seal their letters, proving that they were indeed authentic documents whilst preventing forgeries and tampering.

Thanks to a growing merchant class, antique signet rings became a form of branding during the Renaissance. As European merchants took to the Silk Road and began transporting goods overseas, they used signet rings to stamp seals on their shipments, making it easier to identify goods on arrival.

The School Desk

The School Desk where every child spent many.many hours. They were usually covered in graffiti, doddles, love messages, gossip, and the bottom was encrusted with chewing gum. They were commonly made out of hard maple and were very durable.

 

Pop-a-Point Pencil

One of the greatest inventions of the 20th Century was the Pop-a-Point Pencil. I loved these and would buy as many as I could. Great fun and great to use

Pop a Point Pencils are also known as Bensia Pencils, stackable pencils or non-sharpening pencils. It is a type of pencil where many short pencil tips are housed in a cartridge-style plastic holder. A blunt tip is removed by pulling it from the writing end of the body and re-inserting it into the open-ended bottom of the body, thereby pushing a new tip to the top.

Spirograph

Hours of fun and very interesting pictures and patterns with the  Spirograph

 Spirograph is a geometric drawing device that produces mathematical roulette curves of the variety technically known as hypotrochoids and epitrochoids. The well-known toy version was developed by British engineer Denys Fisher and first sold in 1965.

The definitive Spirograph toy was developed by the British engineer Denys Fisher between 1962 and 1964 by creating drawing machines with Meccano pieces. Fisher exhibited his spirograph at the 1965 Nuremberg International Toy Fair. It was subsequently produced by his company. US distribution rights were acquired by Kenner, Inc., which introduced it to the United States market in 1966 and promoted it as a creative children's toy. Kenner later introduced Spirotot, Magnetic Spirograph, Spiroman, and various refill sets

Sliding Number Puzzle

In the 1970's we  spent many long hours with these number puzzles 

 A sliding puzzle, sliding block puzzle, or sliding tile puzzle is a combination puzzle that challenges a player to slide (frequently flat) pieces along certain routes (usually on a board) to establish a certain end-configuration. The pieces to be moved may consist of simple shapes, or they may be imprinted with colours, patterns, sections of a larger picture (like a jigsaw puzzle), numbers, or letters.

The Battle of Lewes

 

In his book “Seaward Sussex”  - Edric Holmes, describes the battle of Lewes fought on a hill near Lewes in 1264.

In the great struggle of May 1264 between the forces of the Barons and Henry III, for which Lewes will always be famous, Lewes Castle took no actual part and merely surrendered at discretion.

"The battle was fought on the hill where the races are held. Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, headed the Baronial army. The Royal forces were divided into three bodies; the right entrusted to Prince Edward; the left to Richard, Earl of Cornwall, King of the Romans; and the centre to Henry himself. Prince Edward attacked the Londoners under Nicholas Seagrave with such impetuosity that they immediately fled and were pursued with great slaughter. Montfort taking advantage of this separation, vigorously charged the remaining division of the Royalists, which he put to rout. The King and the Earl of Cornwall hastened to the town, where they took refuge in the Priory. Prince Edward, returning in triumph from the pursuit of the Londoners, learned with amazement the fate of his father and uncle. He resolved to make an effort to set them at liberty, but his followers were too timid to second his ardour, and he was finally compelled to submit to the conditions subscribed by his father, who agreed that the Prince and his cousin Henry, son of the Earl of Cornwall, should remain as hostages in the hands of the Barons till their differences were adjusted by Parliament. In this contest, 5,000 men were slain. The King, who had his horse slain under him, performed prodigies of valour. Richard, Earl of Cornwall, was taken prisoner."

By all accounts, it was a good fight, and the best men won. A touch of humour is added to one record wherein it is related that Richard, King of the Romans, took refuge in a windmill, wherein he was afterwards captured amid shouts of "Come out, thou bad miller." This mill stood near the old Black Horse Inn, but has long since been burnt down.

Accounts vary exceedingly as to the number of the slain, some authorities giving as many as 20,000, others no more than 2,700.

Robert Matthew Beatham - Victoria Cross

Robert Matthew Beatham (1894-1918), soldier, was born on 16 June at Glassonby, Cumberland, England, son of John Beatham, papermaker's foreman, and his wife Elizabeth, née Allison. While still in his teens he migrated with his brother Walter to Australia and was working at Geelong, Victoria, as a labourer when he enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force on 8 January 1915.

Beatham embarked for Egypt in April and was returned to Australia on medical grounds in July. He re-embarked in September with reinforcements for the 8th Battalion and six months later moved on to France where he was twice wounded in action—at Pozières in August 1916 and Passchendaele in October 1917. When the great Allied offensive was launched on 8 August 1918, his unit was among those ordered to advance from Harbonnières and capture the high ground of Lihons north of Rosières. On approaching this German strong point on 9 August the 8th Battalion, its supporting tanks knocked out by heavy artillery fire, was halted by a line of machine-guns. Private Beatham's company worked its way forward to enfilade the enemy position and, assisted by Lance Corporal W. G. Nottingham, he rushed forward and bombed the crews of four guns, killing ten men and capturing ten others. This action enabled the battalion to renew its advance. On 11 August when nearing its objective on the southern slope of Lihons it was again halted by German reinforcements. Beatham, though wounded, rushed another machine-gun and bombed and silenced it, but was riddled with bullets. He was buried at Heath cemetery, Harbonnières. His award of the Victoria Cross was posthumous. The citation praised his 'most conspicuous bravery and self-sacrifice' which had 'inspired all ranks in a wonderful manner'.

Victoria Cross Citation:

'For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty during the attack north of ROBIERES on 9.8.18. Pte BEATHAM showed such heroism and courage that he inspired all officers and men in his vicinity in a wonderful manner. When the advance was held up by heavy machine gun fire, Pte BEATHAM dashed forward and assisted by one man bombed and fought the crews of four enemy machine guns, killing ten of them and capturing ten others. The bravery of the action greatly facilitated the advance of the whole battalion and prevented casualties. In fighting the crew of the first gun he was shot through the right leg but continued in the advance. When the final objective was reached and fierce fighting taking place, he again dashed forward and bombed the machine gun that was holding our men off, getting riddled with bullets and killed in doing so. His heroism and self-sacrifice were not in vain and as his bombs knocked out the enemy machine gun our men were enabled to advance.'

Source: 'Commonwealth Gazette' No 61

Date: 23 May 1919

Medieval Feasts

 Saxo Grammaticus (c. 1150 – c. 1220), also known as Saxo Cognomine Longus, was a Danish historian, theologian and author. He is thought to have been a clerk or secretary to Absalon, Archbishop of Lund, the main advisor to Valdemar I of Denmark. In his" Danish Histories" he explains social life in the early Medieval life.

"Feasts".—The hall-dinner was an important feature in the old Teutonic court life. Many a fine scene in a saga takes place in the hall while the king and his men are sitting over their ale. The hall decked with hangings, with its fires, lights, plate and provisions, appears in Saxo just as in the Eddic Lays, especially Rigsmal, and the Lives of the Norwegian Kings and Orkney Earls.

The order of seats is a great point of archaic manners. Behaviour at the table was a matter of careful observance. The service, especially that of the cup-bearer, was minutely regulated by etiquette. An honoured guest was welcomed by the host rising to receive him and giving him a seat near himself, but less distinguished visitors were often victims to the rough horseplay of the baser sort, and of the wanton young gentleman at court. The food was simple, boiled beef and pork, and mutton without sauce, ale served in horns from the butt. Roast meat, game, sauces, mead, and flagons set on the table, are looked on by Starcad as foreign luxuries, and Germany was credited with luxurious cookery.

"Mimes and jugglers", who went through the country or were attached to the lord's court to amuse the company, were a despised race because of their ribaldry, obscenity, cowardice, and unabashed self-debasement; and their new-fangled dances and piping were loathsome to the old court-poets, who accepted the harp alone as an instrument of music.

The story that once a king went to war with his jugglers and they ran away, would represent the point of view of the old house-carle, who was neglected, though "a first-class fighting man", for these debauched foreign buffoons.

Willenhall Spa

In his book the "Annals of Willenhall" - Frederick Wm. Hackwood describes how in the 18th Century, Willenhall in the Industrial Black Country almost became a health resort : -

"It is difficult to imagine Willenhall as a health resort; yet it was no fault of Dr. Richard Wilkes that his native spot did not become a fashionable inland watering place.

It should be explained that during the eighteenth century, there was almost a mania to discover and exploit wells and springs, and to regard them as fountains of health to which the fashionable and the well-to-do might be attracted.  Before the newer fashion of sea bathing was introduced—which was early in the next century—there was a great number of these newly-invented places of inland resort.  For instance, Dudley had its charming Spa on Pensnett Chace; and to show that Wolverhampton was not behind and, we take the liberty of quoting from the MSS. of Dr. Wilkes:

“A medical spring has lately been discovered at Chapel Ash, in the south-west part of this town, which purges moderately and without the least uneasiness.  A brown ocre, or absorbent earth, remains after evaporation, mixt with salt and sulphur; so that it seems to promise relief in all kinds of disorders proceeding from costiveness, and alcaline, fiery, and acid humours in the stomach and bowels, attended by a flow of feverish heat, eruptions on the skin called scorbutic, headaches, giddiness, flatulency, sour eructations, flying pains called nervous and rheumatic, the hemorrhoids or piles, asthma, and many other disorders which seem incurable by the most powerful medicines.”

Truly the Doctor might have earned a good living nowadays by writing the advertisements for modern quack specifics.

Shaw’s description of the Willenhall Spa says that “the spring arises on the north side of a brook which runs almost directly from the west to the east, and so very near to it that a moderate shower will raise the brook as to cover it.  About 200 yards up this brook, on the same side, are several springs, one of which was much taken notice of by our ancestors, and consecrated to St. Sunday, no common saint.  "

THE GRAMOPHONE RECORDER.

 

In his book "The Progress of Invention in the Nineteenth Century" - Edward W, Byrn describes the workings of the Gramophone Recorder. -

"The gramophone is also another speaking machine. This is the invention of Mr. E. Berliner and covered by him in patent No. 372,786, Nov. 8, 1887. Instead of a wax cylinder, this machine employs a flat disc on which the record is formed as a volute spiral groove, gradually drawing toward the center. It is produced as follows: A zinc disc is covered by a thin film of acid-resisting material, such as wax or grease, and is placed in a horizontal pan, mounted to revolve as a turn table about a vertical axis. A stylus and diaphragm, with a speaking tube attached, are arranged above the disc, and when spoken into the vibrations of the diaphragm cause, through the stylus, a record to be traced through the wax, down to the zinc. As the waxed disc and pan are revolved, the stylus and diaphragm are gradually moved by gears toward the center of the disc. While the record is being traced the waxed disc is kept flooded with alcohol from a glass jar, seen in the cut, to soften the film and prevent the clogging of the stylus. The disc, when completed, is then rinsed off and etched with acid, chromic acid being used, to prevent the liberation of hydrogen bubbles. The etched disc is then electrotyped to form a matrix, and from this electrotype hard rubber duplicates of the original record are molded, which are capable of giving 1,000 reproductions. These rubber discs are placed on the reproducing instrument, which is arranged to cause the stylus to freely trail along in the spiral groove, and when the disc is rotated under the said stylus its record is converted into articulate speech. Such flat disc records give quite loud reproductions, are not easily destroyed, and may be compactly stored and transported. In the gramophone the diaphragm stands at right angles to the record disc and the stylus does not vibrate endwise to make a path of varying depth, as in the phonograph and graphophone, but the stylus vibrates laterally and traces a little zigzag line."

Sarah Broom MacNaughtan

 Sarah Broom MacNaughtan was born in Lanarkshire in 1864, she was the daughter of a JP and she inherited an income. Before the war, she worked as a novelist and for women’s suffrage. When the war started she worked as a volunteer nurse in Belgium

Here is a diary entry from 7th October 1914, As the Philharmonic Hall in Antwerp which was used as a hospital. 

"On Wednesday night, the 7th of October, we heard that one more ship was going to England, and a last chance was given to us all to leave. Only two did so; the rest stayed on. Mrs. Stobart went out to see what was to be done. The ---- Consul said that we were under his protection and that if the Germans entered the town he would see that we were treated properly. We had a deliberately cheerful supper, and afterward, a man called Smits came in and told us that the Germans had been driven back fifteen kilometers. I myself did not believe this, but we went to bed and even took off our clothes.

At midnight the first shell came over us with a shriek, and I went down and woke the orderlies and nurses and doctors. We dressed and went over to help move the wounded to the hospital. The shells began to scream overhead; it was a bright moonlight night, and we walked without haste--a small body of women--across the road to the hospital. Here we found the wounded all yelling like mad things, thinking they were going to be left behind. The lung man has died. Nearly all the moving to the cellars had already been done--only three stretchers remained to be moved.

One wounded English sergeant helped us. Otherwise, everything was done by women. We laid the men on mattresses which we fetched from the hospital overhead, and then Mrs. Stobart's mild, quiet voice said, "Everything is to go on as usual.

The night nurses and orderlies will take their places. Breakfast will be at the usual hour." She and the other ladies whose night it was to sleep at the convent then returned to sleep in the basement with a Sister. We came in for some most severe shelling at first, either because we flew the Red Cross flag or because we were in the line of fire with a powder magazine that the Germans wished to destroy.

We sat in the cellars with one night light burning in each, and with seventy wounded men to take care of. Two of them were dying. There was only one line of bricks between us and the shells. One shell fell into the garden, making a hole six feet deep; the next crashed through a house on the opposite side of the road and set it on fire.

The danger was two-fold, for we knew our hospital, which was a cardboard sort of thing, would ignite like matchwood, and if it fell we should not be able to get out of the cellars. Some people on our staff were much against our making use of a cellar at all for this reason. I myself felt it was the safest place, and as long as we stayed with the wounded they minded nothing.

We sat there all night. The English sergeant said that at daybreak the firing would probably cease, as the German guns stopped when daylight came in order to conceal the guns. We just waited for daybreak. When it came the firing grew worse. The sergeant said, "It is always worse just before they stop," but the firing did not stop. Two hundred guns were turned on Antwerp, and the shells came over at the rate of four a minute. They have a horrid screaming sound as they come. We heard each one coming and wondered if it would hit us, and then we heard the crashing somewhere else and knew another shell was coming."

Barbed Wire

This article talks about the making and application of the soldiers favourite “Barbed Wire’.

It was originally published in 'the Illustrated War News', on December 5, 1915

“Barbed Wire is serving a purpose in the war perhaps only second in importance to munitions properly so called shells and bullets.

It supplies, in fact, the materials of which are constructed the first of the lines of defence everywhere, utilised, as it is, to form the outer barrier-network in front of fortifications of every kind, alike for entrenched positions in field operations, and for guarding, as an obstacle, the exterior lines of permanently constructed works such as fortresses. Thousands on thousands of yards of it - miles and miles, indeed - are spread out all over the fighting areas: in Belgium, in France, on the Russian-Polish frontier, in Gallipoli and Mesopotamia; and the breaking of gaps through it, or its clearing away in action, is an essential preliminary that the artillery has invariably to perform before attacks are possible.

Barbed wire is said to have been invented by a veteran of the American War of Secession, a Colonel Elbridge, who is said to have begun by experimenting with his wife's hair-pins. He used up so many that the lady one day took him to task for this waste. "Do not shout," he answered; "these hair-pins will bring us a fortune," - and indeed after many rebuffs, his invention gained widespread favour among the farmers in the United States for fencing.

When the Steel Trust was formed, the late Pierpont Morgan bought up Colonel Elbridge's works and patents for a sum which is said to have been, roughly, two millions sterling. In war, barbed wire was first used by the Boers in the Transvaal; and later, in Manchuria, both Russians and Japanese made ample use of it, as, in the Balkan wars, the Turks and the Bulgarians did. Now all over Europe its use is, of course, universal.

The wire-drawing works in the first place supply the wire to the barbed-wire factories in rolls or coils, and the manufacturers use it as received in the preliminary work of the winding-machine. The spools, carrying alternating carriages over each, furnish one of the wires for the manufacture of the main strands. The second wire requires a machine which turns the wire out in the shape of spiral springs with superimposed turns. These spring-shaped spirals are made from wire in coils or previously spooled. The carriage serves to regulate the feed of the wire as it winds on a rod, the size of these spirals varying according to the "looms" for "spinning" the wire.

Three twist barbed wire, the form of barbed wire used in the war, is made by means of a very ingenious machine the object of which is to plait three galvanised wires. Two of these form the body of the wire; the third serves to form the barbs. In the course of the plaiting operation, these barbs are automatically wound on one of the wires which is joined up to the second through the agency of rollers. The twist is then effected, and the barbed wire, as each length becomes terminated, is wound off on to a frame which facilitates its subsequent unwinding. The illustrations opposite show a machine in one of the factory workshops. As the mechanism works, a small knife automatically determines the place of each of the barbs of one of the wires of the twisted strand.

An eccentric at the same time feeds the barbed wire on a kind of finger, making it go through a double coil, after which it cuts the barb aslant to from the sharp point. During the continuous movement of the twist, the wire carrying the barb advances five to eleven centimetres, in the case of close set or ordinary barbs by the aid of a cam, and the following barb is only wound on the same wire when it has traversed the mechanically adjusted distance of pitch or separation.

Barbed wire costs about seven and sixpence per hundred yards. As every bombardment or clearing away of barbed-wire defences at one place means replacement by fresh entanglements further back, the expenditure on this one item must mean an appreciable sum in the outlay of the various belligerents.”

THE BATTALION MOVES OUT

This excellent chapter comes from the book "The Amateur Army" by Patrick MacGill.

After many weeks of waiting his Battalion was finally given orders to go to France, here he vividly describes the process and the excitement of the moment.

READY TO GO--THE BATTALION MOVES

Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move, so every one stated, except our officers, and official information was not forthcoming.

"You are going between midnight and five o'clock to-morrow morning," announced my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.

"How do you know?" I inquired.

"Because I can't get any coal to-morrow--line's bunged up for the troops."

"No, he'll be going on Tuesday," said his wife, whose kindliness and splendid cooking I should miss greatly.

"Is that so?" I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A sore toe eclipsed all other matters for the time being.

"The ration men have served out enough for two days, and it doesn't stand to reason that they're going to waste anything," the little lady continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.

Parades went on as usual; the usual rations were doled out to billets and the usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We were weary of false alarms, waiting orders, and eternal parades. Some of us had been training for fully six months, others had joined the Army when war broke out, and we were still secure in England. "Why have we joined?" the men asked. "Is it to line the streets when the troops come home? We are a balmy regiment."

One evening, Thursday to be exact, the battalion orders were interesting. One item ran as follows: "All fees due to billets will be paid up to Friday night. If any other billet expenses are incurred by battalion the same will be paid on application to the War Office."

Friday evening found more explicit expression of our future movements in orders. The following items appeared: "Mess tin covers will be issued to-morrow. No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by the battalion overseas. All deficiencies in kit must be reported to-morrow morning. Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers who have not yet received a copy of the New Testament can have same on application at the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.

"Where are we going?" we asked one another. Some answered saying that we were to help in the sack of Constantinople, others suggested Egypt, but all felt that we were going off to France at no very distant date. Was not this feeling plausible when we took into account a boot parade of the day before and how we were ordered to wear two pairs of socks when trying on the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested the trenches and cold, certainly not the sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or the burning sands of Egypt.

Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered in front of the quartermaster's stores drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets, ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity discs, new belts,
water-bottles, pack-straps, trousers, tunics and the hundred and one other things required by the soldier on active service. In addition to the usual requisites, every unit received a cholera belt (they are more particular over this article of attire than over any other), two pairs of pants, a singlet and a cake of soap. The latter looked tallowy and nobody took it further than the billet; the pants were woollen, very warm and made in Canada. This reminds me of an amusing episode which took place last general inspection. While standing easy, before the brigadier-general made his appearance, the men compared razors and found that eighty per cent. of them had been made in Germany. But these were bought by the soldiers before war started. At least all affirmed that this was so.

Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries at midnight, and no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced that night. I drew my boots at eleven o'clock, and then the streets were crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends. Wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears.

Sunday.--No church parade; and all men stood under arms in the streets. The officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty wrist-watches. They now appeared in web equipment, similar to that worn by the men, and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous by his uniform.

Our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement which had been waited for so long. "To-morrow we proceed overseas," he said. "On behalf of the colonel I've to thank you all for the way in which you have done your work up to the present, and I am certain
that when we get out yonder," he raised his arm and his gesture might indicate any point of the compass, "you'll all do your work with the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now."

This was the announcement. The men received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation broke out in the ranks. "We're going at last"; "I thought when I joined that I'd be off next morning"; "What price a free journey to Berlin!"; "It'll be some great sport!" Such were the remarks that were bandied to and fro. But some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter.

A little leaflet entitled "Rules for the Preservation of Health on Field Service," was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a few quotations.

"Remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to keep it outside."

"Don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water."

"Never start on a march with an empty stomach."

"Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is. Socks should be taken off at the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. Put on a clean pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and vice versa."

"Remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_."

"Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no other part of the body."

At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. I heard the transport wagons clattering on the pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.

Yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." All day we waited for orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. Another day had to be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our quarters. The orders were posted up as usual at all street corners, a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality:

The battalion moves to-morrow.

Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.

Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence.

I rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnishing bayonets and oiling the bolts of the rifles. Twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the night before.

When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, buttered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. The morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to beat sharply against our legs. It was still very dark, only a few street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed of being noticed. Men in full marching order stamped out from every billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins, stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the other, were preparing to call the roll.

Ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man, and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected and identity discs examined by torch-light. This finished, we were allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the biting hail. Our blankets were already gone. The transport wagons had disappeared and with them our field-bags. I suppose they will await us in ---- but I anticipate, and at present all we know is that our regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive, we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.

We stood by till eight o'clock. The day had cleared and the sun was shining brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who wept and children who chattered and sang "Tipperary."

Three trains stood in the sidings by the station. Places were allotted to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-class.

Soon we were hurrying through England to a place unknown. Most of my comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall songs that told of home. There were seven with me in my compartment, the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold
hours of the early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the rifles while I cooked breakfast in the morning; Bill, the Cockney youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument in the coffee-shop of which I have already spoken, and the Oxford man. The other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a Dickens character in _Pickwick Papers_; another who soon fell asleep, his head warm in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been waxed at one end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.

Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of the window to read their names, but was never successful. Cigarettes were smoked, the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "fag-ends." Rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers and equipment piled on top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:

"Where are we going to?" he asked. "France I suppose, isn't it?"

"Maybe Egypt," someone answered.

"With two pairs of socks to one boot!" Mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. He had been a great traveller and knows many countries. His age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church.

"But the job was not one for me," he says, "and I threw it up." He looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.

Our train journey neared the end. Bill was at the window and said that we were in sight of our destination. All were up and fumbling with their equipment; and one, the University man, hoped that the night would be a good one for sailing to France.

If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.