solicit and collect contributions, and the officers scrambled over
each other in their noble contest to deplete their own last and
cherished reserves for the supper of the guests. Soon the latter
were seated as comfortably as circumstances permitted before a
feast of canned beef, cheese, biscuits, and a slice of salami, my
own proud contribution consisting of two tablets of chocolate, part of
a precious reserve for extreme cases. It was a strange sight to see
these two Russians in an Austrian trench, surrounded by cordiality
and tender solicitude. The big brotherhood of humanity had for the
time enveloped friend and foe, stamping out all hatred and racial
differences. It is wonderful how the most tender flowers of
civilization can go hand in hand with the most brutal atrocities of
grim modern warfare.

In the mean while the messengers had returned almost staggering
under the weight of a sack filled with the gifts of our soldiers to the
enemy,--pieces of bread and biscuits with here and there a slice of
bacon or a lump of cheese, all thrown pele-mele together. Many a
man must have parted with his last piece of bread in order not to be
outdone by the others in generosity, for our own provisions were
running very low. It is true that the bread and biscuits were
mildewed, the cheese stale, and the bacon as hard as stone, but
the boys gave the best they could, the very poverty and
humbleness of the gifts attesting their own desperate plight, and
bearing proud witness to the extent of their sacrifice. With tears in
their eyes and reiterated protestations of thanks, our guests
staggered back through the night to their lines, undoubtedly carrying
with them tender memories of Austrian generosity and hospitality.

On the morning of the next day a Russian detachment succeeded in