IT was stated that within a week after the investment of Vicksburg, its garrison was reduced to 14-1/2 ounces of food for each man a day. And the rebel commander declared he would hold the town until the last dog was eaten. I guess Pemberton kept his word, for after their surrender I don't remember of seeing a single dog in the city of Vicksburg. How the tables were turned on poor Fido to be sure--that the biter should not only be bitten but eaten. A lieutenant on the 6th Missouri who had been taken a prisoner during the assault of the 19th, on June 5 was paroled by the rebs and returned to us. He said the living over there when he left was anything but invigorating; that good juicy mule cutlets were eagerly sought for by the elite of the city and brought fabulous prices; the tomcat-weinerwurst was a luxury there that was seldom enjoyed by the best families; that the squad in which he was quartered while a prisoner on the day before his parole had boiled victuals composed of a pair of gumboots for meat, some croquet balls for potatoes and an old green umbrella cover for greens; said he didn't enjoy those extra dishes at all; and preferred just common fare only. We used to twit the Johnnies with eating mule meat in some of our games of blackguard with them in the rifle pits, but until the surrender we didn't know we had been twitting upon facts. We had the advantage of the rebel garrison in many ways because we were sheltered from the blistering heat of the sun by the forest shade, and had plenty to eat and the cool springs in the ravines furnished us an abundance of pure water, while the enemy was wholly unsheltered in their defensive works, reduced to almost starvation rations and a scarcity of good water. One day we captured a Johnnie skulking down in the ravine with a dozen canteens over his shoulder after water for himself and comrades.