The dinner was already cooking outside.
Inside on a rough shelf were piles of shining tin-cups and plates,
newly polished. The lower bunk had been filled with new, _pine_ straw,
and made as soft as possible by piling upon it all the blankets of the
mess. This formed the chair of state. Upon it were placed, first,
myself (the centre figure), on one side my husband, exempt from duty
for the day, on the other my little boy, who, far from appreciating
the intended honor, immediately "squirmed" down, and ran off on a tour
of investigation through the camp. The mess consisted of six men
including my husband, of whom the youngest was Lionel C. Levy, Jr., a
mere boy, but a splendid soldier, full of fun and nerve and dash. Then
there was my husband's bosom friend, J. Hollingsworth, or Uncle Jake,
as he was called by everybody. Of the industrial pursuits of the mess,
he was the leading spirit, indeed, in every way his resources were
unbounded. His patience, carefulness, and pains-taking truly achieved
wonderful results in contriving and carrying into execution plans for
the comfort of the mess. He always carried an extra haversack, which
contained everything that could be thought of to meet contingencies or
repair the neglect of other people.
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