The chickens must be stewed in pans and roasted on sticks. The camp-kettle is sacred for the coffee. "Captain," says somebody, "this coffee is not ground, and we have no mill. What shall we do?" "What indeed shall we do?" We must have coffee, and some one hits on the remedy; we take the tough linen bag of a haversack, put the coffee in it, and pound it on a log. Somewhat to our surprise, we find that it is soon well ground, and in the course of half an hour we have as good coffee as usual. Chicken and corn dodgers come along more slowly, but after awhile we sit around the fire to eat them; and everybody declares that he has had enough, and that it is very good. From supper to bed. The corn forage that we brought for the horses must be used for blankets. Spread on the ground, it makes a comfortable mattress. I have said that we had left our blankets; but, nevertheless, every man has one. Some years ago, a young cavalry captain, named McClellan, who (in my opinion) does all things quietly but well, observed that the padding of a saddle frequently got out of order, causing the poor horse a sore back, and requiring a saddler to put it in order again. He also remarked that the pad was of no other use than to play the part of cushion between the saddle and the horse's back. He thereupon introduced into the army what is now known as the McClellan saddle. It is made of wood, hollowed out so that on the one side it makes a comfortable seat for the man, and on the other conforms to the shape of the horse. A narrow slit is cut out over the backbone, which not only saves the horse's spine, but makes it much more cool and comfortable for him. And, finally, the padding consists of a horse blanket folded up. Thus, to the wise, judicious foresight of General McClellan, each of us is indebted for a blanket.