ell, under the circumstances I won't keep you," said mother, "but
I'll write to the doctor just the same."

"Yes, do," I urged, "send it care of me so that he'll be sure to get
it."

Mother is not a restful creature in camp.

_April 9th._ "Say, there, you with the nose," cried my P.O. company
commander to-day, "are you with us or are you playing a little game of
your own?"

I wasn't so very wrong--just the slight difference between port and
present arms.

"With you, heart and soul," I replied, hoping to make a favorable
impression by a smart retort.

"That don't work in the manual," he replied; "use your brain and
ears."

Unnecessarily rough he was, but I don't know but what he wasn't right.

[Illustration: "I WASN'T SO VERY WRONG--JUST THE SLIGHT DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN PORT AND PRESENT ARMS"]

_April 10th._ I hear that I am going to be put on the mess crew. God
pity me, poor wretch! How shall I ever keep my hands from becoming
red? What a terrible war it is!

_April 11th._ Saw a basket ball game the other night. Never knew it
was so rough. I used to play it with the girls and we had such sport.
There seemed to be some reason for it then. There are a couple of
queer looking brothers on our team who seem to try utterly to demolish
their opponents. They remind me of a couple of tough gentlemen from
Scranton I heard about in a story once.

_April 12th._ The price of fags (gee! I'm getting rough) has gone up
again. This war is rapidly cramping my style.

_April 14th._ I have been too sick at heart to write up my diary--Eli
is dead! "Pop," the Jimmy-legs, found the body and has been promoted
to Chief Master-at-arms. It's an ill wind that blows no good. I
don't know whether it was because he found Eli or because he runs one
of the most modernly managed mess halls in camp or because his working
parties are always well attended that "Pop" received his appointment,
but whatever it was it does my heart good to see a real seagoing old
salt, one of our few remaining ex-apprentice boys, receive recognition
that is so well merited. However, I was on much more intimate terms
with Eli when I was over in Probation Camp than I was with "Pop." He
almost had me in his clutches once for late hammocks, me and eight
other poor victims I had led into the trouble, and he had our
wheelbarrows all picked out for us, and a nice large pile of sand for
us to play with when fate interceded in our behalf. The poor man
nearly cri