“And in my soup! Boys, that cook's time has come. Who'll stand by me till I make him eat this piece of soap?” “You'll have to go it alone; you're on the right side of the cook, you know. We've got nothing to do with it. He knows better than to give us soup with soap in it.” “But, hold on a minute; all the soup came out of the same kettle.” “Sure enough; he's soap-souped us all. Go ahead; we're with you.” The cook would have been roughly handled had he not called on the officer of the day for protection. The cook protested that the soap had not been in the soup kettle, but must have fallen off the shelf over the window as the soldier held his tin cup through the opening to receive his soup. This theory was gladly accepted by all but the trooper who had found the soap in his cup. By this time he was too sick to be aggressive. “Boys, send my body home,” he moaned. “Soap suds,” chorused the troopers who had been relieved from the terrible suspicion that they had been fed on soap also. The poor victim was given a drink of hospital brandy as soon as he could retain anything on his stomach. He was on the sick report for four or five days. Paragraph 1,190 of the Revised Regulations for the Army (1863), fixed the soldier's daily ration as follows: _Twelve ounces of pork or bacon, or one pound and four ounces of salt or fresh beef; one pound and six ounces of soft bread or flour, or one pound of hard bread, or one pound and four ounces of corn meal; and to every one hundred rations, fifteen pounds of peas or beans, and ten pounds of rice or hominy; ten pounds of green coffee, or eight pounds of roasted (or roasted and ground) coffee, or one pound and eight ounces of tea; fifteen pounds of sugar; four quarts of vinegar; one pound and four ounces of adamantine or star candles; four pounds of soap; three pounds and twelve ounces of salt; four ounces of pepper; thirty pounds of potatoes, when practicable, and one quart of molasses._ I have quoted the exact language of the regulations for the information of civilians who every now and then inquire of the veterans: “What did the Government feed you fellows on down in Dixie?” Hard-tack, salt pork and coffee were the soldier's mainstay. The sweetest meal I ever ate consisted of crumbs of hardtack picked up out of the dirt, where the boxes had been opened to issue crackers to the troops, and a piece of salt pork that had been thrown away by an infantry soldier. I still cherish the memory of that feast. There were two or three violinists in our battalion, and the boys occasionally induced these musicians to fiddle for a “stag dance,” as they called the old-fashioned quadrille in which troopers with their caps off went through “ladies' chain” and other figures prescribed for the fair partners in the regulation dance. The dances took place by the light of the camp fires between retreat and tattoo. The boys managed to get a good deal of enjoyment out of these gatherings.