ful companion of the vicissitudes of the soldier's
life, snuff the aroma of imported Havanas.

In sharp contrast with the mess-cooking at the big fire was the serious
and diligent work of the man separated from his comrades, out of reach
of the woods, but bent on cooking and eating. He has found a coal of
fire, and having placed over it, in an ingenious manner, the few leaves
and twigs near his post, he fans the little pile with his hat. It soon
blazes. Fearing the utter consumption of his fuel, he hastens to balance
on the little fire his tin cup of water. When it boils, from some secure
place in his clothes he takes a little coffee and drops it in the cup,
and almost instantly the cup is removed and set aside; then a slice of
fat meat is laid on the coals, and when brown and crisp, completes the
meal--for the "crackers," or biscuit, are ready. No one but a soldier
would have undertaken to cook with such a fire, as frequently it was no
bigger than a quart cup.

Crackers, or "hard tack" as they were called, are notoriously poor
eating, but in the hands of the Confederate soldier were made to do good
duty. When on the march and pressed for time, a piece of solid fat pork
and a dry cracker was passable or luscious, as the time was long or
short since the last meal. When there was leisure to do it, hardtack was
soaked well and then fried in bacon grease. Prepared thus, it was a dish
which no Confederate had the weakness or the strength to refuse.

Sorghum, in the absence of the better molasses of peace times, was
greatly prized and eagerly sought after. A "Union" man living near the
Confederate lines was one day busy boiling his crop. Naturally enough,
some of "our boys" smelt out the place and determined to have some of
the sweet fluid. They had found a yearling dead in the field hard by,
and in thinking over the matter determined to sell the Union man if
possible. So they cut from the dead animal a choice piece of beef,
carried it to the old fellow and offered to trade. He accepted the
offer, and the whole party walked off with canteens full.

Artillerymen, having tender consciences and no muskets, seldom, if ever,
shot stray pigs; but they did sometimes, as an act of friendship, wholly
disinterested, point out to the infantry a pig which seemed to need
shooting, and by way of dividing the danger and responsibility of the
act, accept privately a choice part of the deceased.

On one occasion, when a civilian was dinin