Tuesday, 7th—Nothing of importance. It rained all day. Our company is divided into messes, seven in all, and each has a cook. Each mess draws its rations every five days, according to number, and the rations are placed in the care of the cooks. Some of the cooks are not well posted on cooking. Cook number 7 wanted to cook some rice for dinner and put his kettle on filled with rice. Presently he began dipping out rice, as it was running over, and he soon had his third kettle filled with rice. In finishing it up he let it scorch and to overcome that he put in some molasses, which the boys foraged out in the country, and so mess number 7 will have sweet scorched rice for some days to come.[1]
[1] Cook number 7 did not hear the last of it for some time. We all recommended him as being a good hand to cook rice.—A. G. D.
