Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-07-07

arts Of camp life, and cookery was sealed
book to every officer.
In the company to which / belonged,
there was Captain with two subalterns, of
which two | was one. We were anxious
to celebrate Christmas Day, 1854, by good
dinner. Roast beef we knew to be out of
the question, but We were determined by
hook or by crook, if possible, to have a
plum-pudding. What would Christmas be
to an Englishman, if deprived on that
festive day of the time-honored food with
which it is from earliest childhood aSso-
ciated in his mind?
No gourmet who lives only to eat, ever
had more frequent consultations with his
chef over the favoring of supreme de vo-
laille la Lucullus, than we had with one
another on the subject of pudding. None OF
us had any very clear notions of how it
| was made, and one of the party declared it
other two maintained it should be.
At considerable expense and after many
| Journeys to Balaclava, where every ship was
| searched, We were obliged to content our
selves with the following ingredients:
Some very bad and very dark brown sugar
that seemed strongly impregnated with
sand, and favored with the worst sort of
molasses; some most unquestionable-lvo
ing suet, that smelt very high and was de-
| cidedly rancid. We could get no raisins,
so had to content ourselves with dried figs
cut up small and as flour was out of the
question, we used pounded ration-biscuit
| instead.
The pounding operation was performed
In the hollow of a large shell-splinter, a
round shot being used as pestle.
This horrible mess, mixed together as
best we could, was tied up in one of nv
two only towels, and put down with much
ceremony to boil.
We had been told it required several
hours TO cook, but, alas, before it had been
long in the pot, our company was ordered
| of-out OF its turn-to the trenches.
This was, indeed, blow. We had
| looked forward so long to this Christmas
dinner, and had already come to regard
our pudding with the affection that an old
hen might be expected to entertain for the
only egg she had ever laid.
But there was no use in repining, 90 we
must; but what to do with the pudding?
That was question, which to us for the
! moment seemed Of greater Importance than
the capture of Sebastopol. One proposed
| 1t should be kept for to-morrows dinner,
but his hungry eyes showed that his
| stomach did not second that resolution.
Come what may, we resolved upon eating
it forthwith.
remember that dinner well, and, in
deed, | have every reason for doing so.
We had some timed sardines, then some
preserved salmon, little ration salt beef
and great deal-yes, great deal of that
| dreadful pudding. Its appearance is
photographed on my memory. | can see
| 1t now as it was turned out of my crumpled
towel and rolled into its dish, the tin lid
| of the pot in which it was boiled.
1t was about the size of nine-pounder
shot, and as | strove to cut it with nv
pocket-knife, it seemed 20 me nearly as
hard in texture. However, we were all
young-I was only 21-and such was our
frame of mind that we would Just as soon
have refused to go on duty as to have given
up the intention of eating that pudding.
| think | ate more of it than the others.
/ imagine, at least, that | must have done
so, for in no other way can | explain how
| 1t was that the tortures it occasioned me
were far and away more excruciating than
the mere twinges of occasional pain which
they only suffered.
Having washed it down with strong
glass of grog, off we started, and about
two miles brisk march took us about
nightfail to the twenty-one gun battery,
where we were to spend the night. |
shall not attempt to describe my agony.
The nine-pounder pudding seemed to have
! resolved itself into grape-shot within me;
indeed, at moments fancied l could hear
the pieces rattle as they collided one
against the other in my inside | was
poisoned, as | now know from subsequent
sad experience
We had doctor with us, but what could
he do? He had nothing to give me; his
whole portable stock in trade was
pocket-case of mysteriously shaped knives
and scissors, with proportion of lint and
sticking plaster. l did not want him to
cut me open, so his instruments could
not help me. He said | must 90 back
to camp, and that he would go with me
as | was too i'll to go alone.
/ reported this to my Captain, whose
temper, never amiable under any circum-
stances, had lately become intolerable. He
hated this campaign life, and everything
connected with war. In fact. at heart he
was no soldier. But peace be to his ashes
whatever were his faults, he died like
gentleman, killed by round shot early in
the Indian mutiny.
The doctor and / started for camp to-
gether, the night being extremely dark.
Before we had accomplished half the dis
lance my pains suddenly ceased, and
found myself quite well again. | told the
doctor, and said | would return to my COM
pany. The doctor, the best of fellows, pro-
tested as my medical adviser, and when
that failed, endeavored as a friend to dis
suade me from what he termed my ridicu-
lous intention. He may have had some
glimmering interest in me, but imagined
his first thoughts were with his empty bed
in camp; its warm blankets and the quiet
nights rest they would afford were more
in his mind than his patient.
was obdurate, but remarked there was
no reason why he should not go on to
camp, as he knew the way. Between the
spot where this conversation took place
and the camp there was a shallow valley.
where the remains of dead horses had long
attracted some very large and ferocious
wild dogs. They were very dangerous, and
it was unsafe to go near them unless well
armed. | had sword and revolver, the
doctor had neither.
He was the most amusing of Irishman,
and l laugh now as | recall him brandish-
ing the empty soda-water bottle in which
he had carried his ration of rum, to i'm
press me with the fact that, as it was his
only weapon, he would be compelled to re-
turn with me if persisted in my folly of
preferring a night in the trenches to
good warm bed in camp
There are people who look upon the
soldier and his career with horror, and to
whom all military glory is an abomination.
|, on the other hand, thoroughly sympa-
thize with the Westminster schoolboy who
complained that he could not sleep nor
play because of the French standards taken
at Blenheim which hung in the hall That
boy was, in my opinion, patriot, who
gloried in the courage and manly virtues
of the Anglo-Saxon race.
l once heard of good and pious family
in which the Books of Chronicles were per-
emptorily excluded from morning Bible
reading, lest they should inculcate in the
boys a love for the warfare they describe.
Now as l read history, the lesson it
seems to teach is that military courage is
essential to the healthy growth, the manly
E j IL