of that skillet one single coal, and don't be in a
hurry for the biscuit. You need not say you "like yours half done," etc.
Simply wait. When he thinks they are ready, and not before, you get
them. _He_ may raise the lid cautiously now and then and look in, but
don't _you_ look in. Don't say you think they are done, because it's
useless. Ah! his face relaxes; he raises the lid, turns it upside down
to throw off the coals, and says, _All right, boys_! And now, with the
air of a wealthy philanthropist, he distributes the solid and weighty
product of his skill to, as it were, the humble dependents around him.

The "General" of the mess, having satisfied the cravings of the inner
man, now proceeds to enlighten the ordinary members of it as to when,
how, and why, and where, the campaign will open, and what will be the
result. He arranges for every possible and impossible contingency, and
brings the war to a favorable and early termination. The greatest
mistake General Lee ever made was that he failed to consult this man.
Who can tell what "might have been" if he had?

Now, to the consternation of all hands, our old friend "the Bore,"
familiarly known as "the old Auger," opens his mouth to tell us of a
little incident illustrative of his personal prowess, and, by way of
preface, commences at Eden, and goes laboriously through the patriarchal
age, on through the Mosaic dispensation, to the Christian era, takes in
Grecian and Roman history by the way, then Spain and Germany and England
and colonial times, and the early history of our grand republic, the
causes of and necessity for our war, and a complete history up to date,
and then slowly unfolds the little matter. We always loved to hear this
man, and prided ourselves on being the only mess in the army having such
treasure _all our own_.

The "Auger," having been detailed for guard-duty, walks off; his voice
grows fainter and fainter in the distance, and we call forth our poet.
One eye is bandaged with a dirty cotton rag. He is bareheaded, and his
hair resembles a dismantled straw stack. His elbows and knees are out,
and his pants, from the knee down, have a brown-toasted tinge imparted
by the genial heat of many a fire. His toes protrude themselves
prominently from his shoes. You would say, "What a dirty, ignorant
fellow." But listen to his rich, well-modulated voice. How perfect his
memory! What graceful gestures! How his single eye glows! See the color
on his cheek! See