M. Rollett's disposition was subscribed and sworn to before Secretary Frazier on January 9, 1918, and a copy of it is in the archives of the American Emba.s.sy.

MARINES ADVISE SWIGGING.

For Hikers They Say, It Is Better Than Sipping.

Quantico, Va.--The drinking of water at frequent intervals while on long hikes is not recommended by U. S. Marines, stationed here.

While the average man should consume, according to medical authorities, from two to three quarts a day, troops on the march should drink this amount at regular periods and not sip a mouthful at a time, say the Marine officers.

In Haiti, the Philippines and other countries where the Marines have been compelled to hike long and hard, men who constantly sipped at their canteens were the first to become exhausted. On the contrary, the men who drank their fill every two or three hours, and not between times, proved to be the best hikers.

FREE SEEDS FOR SOLDIER FARMERS

Congress Votes Us Packets but Overlooks Hoes and Spades

PRIZES FOR BIG PUMPKINS

A.E.F. Garden Enthusiasts Speculate Upon Probability of Flower Pots in Tin Derbies.

_Sergeant Carey, quite contrary, How does your garden grow?

Tomato buds, and Kerry spuds, And string beans all in a row?_

That's the song some of us will be singing when the ground gets a little softer--oh yes, it will be much muddied before long--and the gra.s.s, what there is left of it, gets a little greener, and the d.i.c.key-birds, begin to sing sweet "Oui, oui," in the tree-tops.

For be it known that by and with the consent of the Congress of the United States, that ancient and venerable and highly profitable body which votes the money to buy us our grub has, out of the kindness of its large and collective heart, extended its privilege of free seed distribution to the United States Quartermaster Corps. So, if you haven't received your little package of bean seed, pea seed, anise seed, tomato seed, lettuce seed, pansy seed, begonia seed, and what not, trot right up to the supply sergeant's diggings and ask him when it's coming in.

Oui, Oui--Spuds and Beans!

No kidding; you know yourself you're grumbling now because all you get in the line of vegetables is spuds, and beans, and tomatoes and beans, and spuds, and spuds, and beans, and beans, and spuds and beans, and beans, and beans, and beans, and beans, and beans and--what was that other vegetable you gave us last night, Mess-Sergeant?--oh, yes, beans; all of them canned, with now and then, on Christmas, St. Patrick's Day, Yom Kippur and Hallowe'en, a few grains of canned corn. If you want fresh vegetables, therefore, it's up to you to grow them. Unfortunate people who live in big cities are able to grow them in cute little window boxes, and thus cut down the high cost of living. Why shouldn't you, with a steel helmet for a flower pot, be able to do the same?

Go to the French thou sluggard doughboy. Consider their ways. Get wise.

They're hard up for food, as you know; and at that, to judge from the reports from back home, they're no blooming curiosities. But look at what they do about it. Instead of folding their hands, saying, "C'est la guerre," they go out and dig, and then plant, and then hoe, and finally they have fresh vegetables--and backaches--to show for it. You can't go anywhere along the roadsides or up the hillsides these days without stumbling over their neat and well-kept-up little garden patches. And, with b.u.t.ter selling at what it is, and eggs selling for what they do, and everything else in the eats line skybooting in price, those little garden patches come in mighty handy. It's worth trying.

No Favors for Lemon Squads

Although no official announcement has been made as yet, it is safe to surmise that some company commanders will offer prizes for the squads producing the biggest pumpkins, the best summer squashes, and the most luscious watermelons. (Texas troops please heed.) Company commanders, you know, have never been in the habit of awarding prizes for the squads producing the most lemons, but, then, war changes every thing.

So keep your old campaign list for garden wear (if the Q.M. will let you); make a pair of overalls out of the burlap the meat comes done up in; use your trench pick and shovel, plus your bayonet, to do the plowing, and scatter the tender seedlets. If a few acorns come along with the rest of the plantables, plant them, too, for if we're going to be over here a good long time the shade from these oaks will come in mighty handy when we're old men and have time to sit down.

ARMY MEN BUILD AN OVER-SEAS PITTSBURGH

Mammoth Warehouses and the World's Largest Cold Storage Plant Spring Up in Three Months.

FORESTERS AND ENGINEERS DOING THE WORK.

"Winter of Our Discontent" Sees Big Job of Preparation Speeded "Somewhere" in France.

You, Mr. Infantryman, out there for heaven knows how many hours a day jabbing at a straw-filled burlap bag and pretending it's old Rat-Face, the Crown Prince--been doing that ever since you came over here, haven't you?

You, Mr. Artilleryman, loading, unloading, standing clear, and all the rest of it until your back aches and your ear-drums wellnigh cave in--

You, Mr. Machine-Gunner, going out every day and lugging about a ton of a.s.sorted hardware and cutlery around a vacant lot--

You, Mr. Marine, land-logged, land-sick, trying out your web feet in wading through the muddy depths of Europe instead of wading ash.o.r.e through the roaring surr-yip! hi-ho, and a bottla grape juice!--

You, all of you, own up now! Doesn't seem as though you weren't getting anywhere at times, now does it? Doesn't seem as though you had made any particular progress, eh, what? Doesn't seem to have made the beef any tenderer, the supplies come up any quicker, the Q.M.'s clothing get issued any quicker? As far as you can see, things have been pretty much at a standstill, on account of the weather and what-not, for some time, haven't they?

With Speed and Drive.

But that, Mr. Infantryman, Cannoneer, Machine-Gunner or whoever and whatever you are, is where you are, for one, dead wrong. The old U. S.

is making all sorts of progress here in France--progress towards your comfort, and upkeep, and safety, and toward that of the millions who are coming along to play your game with you. Not in your particular section, perhaps, but, in a certain spot in inland France, the old U. S. has been engaged in big doings this winter, doing big things as only Americans can do 'em and putting them through with the speed and drive that, as we like to think, only the Yanks can put into an undertaking. And the work which the old U. S. has been doing at that particular place in France, has excited the outspoken admiration and surprise of every officer of the Allied armies who has watched it grow.

In three months this spot in France has been transformed from an insignificant railroad station--such as White River Junction, New Hampshire, or Princeton Junction, in New Jersey, say--surrounded by wild woodland and rolling plains, into a regular young Pittsburgh of industry. Fact! Not only a young Pittsburgh of industry, but a young St.

Louis of railway tracks, a young Chicago of meat refrigerators, a young Boston of bean stowawayeries, a young New York water front of warehouses. Just for example, the warehouses already put up at this place will hold more stuff than the new Pennsylvania Railroad freight terminal in Chicago, which is some monster of its kind.

Cold Storage Plants.

Wait! That's only a sample. The foundations are already on the ground for--now, get this; it's straight dope, no bull--for what will be the largest refrigerating cold storage plant in the world. Its construction, by the time this article sees the light of print, will be well under way. It will have a manufacturing capacity of 500 tons of ice, and will be capable of handling 2,000 tons of fresh beef daily, besides having storage s.p.a.ce for 5,000 tons of beef additional, to say nothing of other fresh food supplies whenever they may be awaiting shipment up forward to the men in the Amexforce. Every detail of it is absodarnlutely the last word in uptodateness.

Along with a refrigerating plant of that magnitude, there have also been going up--going up all during the time you thought there was "nothing doing" over here, too--a number of monster storage houses for ammunition and other inflammable supplies. These are built of real old honest-to-goodness hollow fireproof brick, brought all the way from the United States. And if that were not enough to safeguard the bonbons for the Boche contained in them, the storage depot has a waterworks system all its own; to construct it, a pipe line had to be laid half a mile--the distance of the plant from the nearest body of water. Hundreds of miles of auxiliary piping have already been laid, and the water supply will be more than adequate for mechanical purposes and for protection against fire.

Regulars Lend a Hand.

The warehouses themselves are one story buildings, 50 by 30 feet in dimension, constructed in rows of fours, with loading and unloading tracks between them and with big doors in their sides, making easy the quick handling of the supplies to be stowed therein. Goods for four branches of the service are to be stored in them--machinery, ordinance supplies, medical necessaries, and all the varied articles handled by the Quartermaster's Corps. The construction of the buildings has been in the hands of a regiment of railroad engineers and a forestry regiment, a.s.sisted by companies detailed from regular regiments.