Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions

cannon was roaring as usual, but the fusillade had ceased. I then went to the stable for my pony, when I found the owner, Mr. Day, upon his back, just going home. “Ah, Monsieur Soyer, I made sure that you had lost my pony as well as your own. I expected you back immediately, being in want of it.” “I was not aware of that, or I would have walked from your place sooner than have deprived you of it.” “Oh, never mind. Have you heard anything of your animal?” “No! but I am going to look after him this morning. That is the reason why I slept at head-quarters last night.” “I am going about the camp,” said he, “and will inquire for you.” He then started, of course leaving me without a horse, and with dreadful pains in my back and legs, which I attributed to the softness of the bed with which I had been favoured; though I could not boast of a single feather, like that Tocrisse of a recruit, who took one out of his master’s feather bed, laid it down on the boarded floor of his hut, and next morning told his companions that his master must be foolish to sleep upon a feather bed. “Why?” asked they. “Why, if one feather is so hard, what must the lot the captain sleeps upon be?” The worst of my position was, how to get another horse, as it was impossible for me to walk all day about the camp, being so stiff and tired. I went to Lord Raglan’s coachman, and inquired if he had one to spare. He replied-- “Monsieur Soyer, we can spare a pony for you, but you must ask permission of the master of the horse or Lord Raglan, as I have special orders not to lend one upon my own responsibility. I am sure his lordship will let you have it immediately.” At this moment I caught sight of Lord Raglan’s valet, and I begged him to make the request; which he did, and came to tell me that his