The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-12-19
Solotrrs' &uooet.
A Picket Exchange.

Tothe millions OF Wrotches whonever
succeed in driving the wolf from the
door without hearing him trying after
ward to enter by way of the chimney
the American soldier is regarded as the
! luckiest fellow alive. lie does not
! have to wonder where his next meal
is TO come from, or what it shall
be; he has an alrcctiouate Uncle Sam
uel who arranges the menu, does the
marketing, pays the bills and hires the
cook
Yet there were days, twenty or
! twenty-five years ago, when the soldier
was not satisfied with his dinner, and
one of these was likely to be Christ
mas. Unless box came from home,
or paymaster had recently been in
| camp, the warriors Christmas dinner
resembled ordinary military dinners
! with an eXaCtness which was unspeak-
ably eXasperating and depressing.
One Of these days befell Private Ben
Twyman down in Virginia in 1864.
Ben not only had nothing unusual for
his dinner, but he was detailed for
picket duty, and was obliged to carry
his days ration's with him. This dis
tinctly implied a cold dinner, minus the
vegetables which his comrades in camp
would enjoy or throw away.
Ben first swore, as soldiers always
did, and then he followed military
precedent further by accepting the in
evitable, which that day consisted of
half loaf of bread, a piece of cold
corned-beef and two table-spoOnfuls
of dry coffee and sugar mixed AT.
ter standing on picket post four
hours he approached that dinner with
an appetite that he would not have
traded for the best spread table in the
world He had been thinking for all
hour of the contents of his haversack:
he could taste that cold beef in advance,
and he had planned a glorious dessert;
he would drink water at supper and
breakfast for the sake of ending his
dinner with cup of strong coffee.
He thought more about that dessert
than of all The preceding courses Of the
meal. The open fire at the picket re-
serve offered him an abundance of hot
Goals, which had been deduced, by the
natural method, from confeder, te
fence-rails. The coffee was carefully
mixed with cold water in quart cup,
the cup placed on the Goals, and then
DCu sat uONu upOll IIC uuDuIuGu emu
of a rail, gazed at the cup and reveled
in feast of anticipation. This was
very good while it lasted, but there was
void it did not fill, so Ben proceeded
to serve the cold corned beef by re.
moving it from the fragment of news
paper in which it was wrapped He
needed no knife ard fork, and Sec
ond later he was convinced he did not
need the beef
Satan spoil that contractors din
nerl" growled Ben. I" If he can make
it as bad as that beef he's as black as
he's painted
Ben looked at the meat a moment as
he would have looked at the contractor:
then he arose and threw the offending
Wand far. AS he did so he heard hiss
which did not seem entirely his own.
Then he saw that in getting up he had
moved the rail on which he sat and the
burned end of the rail had knocked
over the coffee, the aroma of which
made him competent to sympathize
with Tantalus to any extent.
What he said in the next two or three
minutes may well be omitted; it would
scorch the paper and melt the type.
When he came to himself he looked
about to see if any one was laughing.
Nobody was, so he muttered, "The
breads left, anyhow"
1.-The breads sour to-day Ben -
said one of the men. Better toast it
till it burns-the bitter taste'll hide the
souri,
Burnt bread for Christmas dinner''
exclaimed the unfortunate Ben.
Like enough that is better than the
rebs have got" remarked the religious
member of the picket.
An idea seemed to strike Ben. He
cut fair third from his loaf OF bread,
wrapped it in a paper torn from the
beef, returned to the picket line and
waved handkerchief A gray-clad
soldier emerged from the woods on the
opposite side.
III trade Christmas dinners with
any of you Johnnies, )" shouted Ben, adj
vancing.
Here's your money!" said the con-
federate, meeting Ben and taking the
package. Hold your hands" he con-
tinued, raising dirty rag as if to pour
somothing from it. Ben did as he was
told, and then exclaimed:
Gosh! Parched corn!"
Ben has spent more than twenty
years in wondering who got the better
of that trade; but he boasts that he was
the only Union soldier that year whose
! le,gt linn l.