LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.
[Letters of the length of one of our lending paragraphs are often more read, and therefore more effective, than those which fill treble the space.] LADY BUROUCLERE'S PRISONERS' FUND.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR."] Sra,—Yon and your readers have been such constant friends to my Prisoners' Fund—Lady Burghclere's Prisoners' Fund—that per- haps some slight account of an enterprise largely assisted by Spectator generosity may not be unwholly unwelcome.
Since I last rendered an account of my stewardship the work has gone steadily forward, developing, too, in one instance at least, on fresh lines. About eight months ago we arranged to send, not only parcels, but also money remittances, to the British prisoners in Turkey, through the medium of the Croix Rouge of Geneva and the Croissant Rouge of Constantinople. We calculated that the transport of parcels in Asia Minor would scarcely be rapid, and experience has amply justified our misgivings. For weeks to- gether the goods could not even start on their long voyage; and when the embargo was raised the pace of transport was in accordance with the unruffled calm of the immemorial East. Nevertheless, our parcels did not altogether perish by the way. In fact, most of them, including large cases of drugs which, from all accounts, were worth their weight in diamonds in a camp denuded of all medical stores, ultimately reached their several destinations. While awaiting the advent of home supplies, the plight of the men would, however, have been pitiable—weakened as they were by the terrible hardships on the march from Kut—if no money had been forthcoming to enable them to supplement the Turkish rations. Writing from a hospital, a soldier told me 1 " Everything is very dear here, but your money just enables me to buy eggs and milk—food which I can swallow?' The brevity of the acknowledgments received does not detract from their pathcs. "499 miles march, little water or food. No latkrli," ran one of these haunting communications. "You cannot guess," wrote another man, " how we feel at any act of kindness from friends at home, especially those we do not know. I am one of the sur- vivors of the garrison of Kut-el-Amara, and your Fund's was the first gift of any kind I have ever received since we surrendered." As regards Germany during the winter, the Arctic cold preva- lent, the shortage of rolling-stock, and the submarine campaign all combined to make our delivery of supplies there something of a problem. On the whole, however, I think our Fund may claim to have been lucky. Two months ago, a N.C.O., writing from a camp which does not enjoy a particularly good renown, remarks " I am pleased to say the parcels [for his large body of men] are arriving regular. I have received numbers [all parcels are now numbered] 1 to 9 and 11 to 28." Of course, we must regret the failure of No. 10 to report itself; still, bearing in mind the hazards of transport, it is not a heavy percentage of loss.
At Christmas and Easter it is inf practice to write a circular letter to the N.C.O.'s, in order that they may acquaint the men with the efforts made on their behalf all the world over—and more often than not by the readers of the Spectator. That the prisoners are as little lacking in gratitude as in courage is proved by the following characteristic letter from a corporal in a well-known internment camp. After speaking of " hunger being one of the Worst things I've struck up against yet," he says :- "It is impossible for me to describe my feelings as I read how from the most distant parts of the world our fellow-countrymen
are doing their share for us who have been made prisoners of war. It makes us feel prouder and prouder (in the truest sense of the word) of the Homeland. It is a country worth fighting for. It is a country worth the greatest sacrifice a man can give, and I do not think there is a single man here who does not suffer everything willingly. Of ourselves sufficient. Our chief thoughts are with our dearest and nearest who are left in the Homeland. Theirs, we feel, is the hardest part. They can but watch and pray for us, but we know they suffer untold anguish of mind."
As I have often said before, men such as the writer of this letter are worth saving. Indeed, I am sure, Sir, that your readers will agree that for the sake of our race, both in the present and the future, we cannot afford to lose them. But lose them we shall unless we can continue to supply them with the necessaries of life from home. Our Fund is managed with the utmost eoonomy, since we have always had excellent food contracts, and our sub- scriptions are expended wholly and solely on the men, without any deductions for secretarial or incidental expenses. But thrift
cannot create 8. d., while prices of food continue to rise. I venture, therefore, to say that all donations to the Fund, if Addressed to me, The Lady Burghclere, 48 Charles Street, London, W. 1, and marked " Prisoners' Fund," will be promptly and gratefully acknowledged by, Sir, yours, &e., [Lady Burghclere has done a fine work, and we are sure that we speak for the Spectator subscribers when we say that, indis- pensable as money gifts are, the work of getting tho parcels through is the real act that demands the soldiers' and the subscribers' gratitude. Most earnestly do we hope that the fountain of benevolence' will still run in theso pages.—En. Spectator.]
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