At a large table one of the missionaries of the Institute cut up and buttered loaves at a rate which gave the impression that he was a conjurer engaged in a species of sleight-of-hand.  The butter, however, troubled him, for, the weather being cold, it was hard, and would not spread easily.  To overcome this he put a pound or so of it on a plate beside the boiler-fire to soften.  Unfortunately, he temporarily forgot it, and on afterwards going for it, found that it had been reduced to a yellow liquid.  However, hungry soldiers, rejoicing in the fact of having at last reached home, are not particular.  Some of them, unaccustomed, no doubt, to be served by ladies, asked for their supply deferentially, accepted it politely, and drank it with additional appreciation.