a sheep’s carcass (very thin) is thrown down and hewed up with a bill-hook.  There is great competition for the legs and shoulders, which are good and tender.  If you come off with only ribs, you take them sadly to the public mincing machine, and imagine they were legs when you eat the result.  A rather absurd little modicum of jam is also served out, but it serves to sweeten a biscuit.  There is rum once a week (in theory).  Duff at midday the last few days.  It is difficult to say anything general about rations, because they vary from day to day, often with startling suddenness, according to the conditions of the campaign.  I was on picket this night, a duty which is far less irksome when in the field than when in a standing camp.  Vigilance is of course not relaxed, but many petty rules and regulations are.  There is no guard-tent, of course, in which you must stay when not on watch; as long as it is known where you can be found at a moment’s notice, you are free in the off hours.  You can be dressed as you like as long as you carry your revolver.

By the way, I have lost my C.I.V. slouch hat long ago.  It came of wearing a very unnecessary helmet, merely because it was served out.  That involved carrying the hat in my kit, and it is wonderful how one loses things on the march, in the hurried nocturnal packings and unpackings, when every strap and article of kit must be to your hand in the dark, or you will be late with your horses and cause trouble.  My great comfort is a Tam-o’-Shanter, which I wear whenever we are not in marching order.

As for the revolver, I got into trouble with the Sergeant-Major this night for parading for picket without it.  It was not worth while to explain that I had no ammunition for it; to take your “choking-off,” and say nothing, is always the simplest plan.  I once had one cartridge given me, but lost this precious possession.  I suppose there was some hitch in the arrangements, for our revolvers are only cumbrous ornaments.

There are three pickets and a corporal in charge; each of the three takes two hours on and four off, which works out at about four hours on watch for each, but less if reveille is early.  Personally I don’t mind the duty much, even after a long day’s march.  On a fine still night two hours pass quickly in the lines, especially if one or two picket ropes break, and the horses get tied up in knots.  If there is a lack of incident, you can meditate.  Your head is strangely clear, and for a brief interval your horizon widens.  In the sordid day it is often narrowed to a cow’s.

July 21.—­The same old game; harnessed up and remained ready.  There was a sudden alarm about three, and we jumped into our kit, hooked in, and moved off, only to return in a few minutes.  The General possibly gave the order to see if we were ready.  He reviewed us before we went back, and seemed pleased.  I heard him admiring the horses, and saying there was plenty of work in them.  “You’ve been very lucky after that shell-fire the other day,” he said.