We shall happily have enough to try all gradations of roasting, and suit all tastes, from Miss A.'s to mine.

But fancy me proffering a spare-rib, well done, to some fair lady! What ever are we to do for spoons and forks and plates?
Each soldier has his own, and is sternly held responsible for it by "Army Regulations." But how provide for the multitude?
Is it customary, I ask you, to help to tenderloin with one's fingers?
Fortunately, the Major is to see to that department.

Great are the advantages of military discipline: for anything perplexing, detail a subordinate.
New Year's Eve.
My housekeeping at home is not, perhaps, on any very extravagant scale.
Buying beefsteak, I usually go to the extent of two or three pounds.

Yet when, this morning at daybreak, the quartermaster called to inquire how many cattle I would have killed for roasting, I turned over in bed, and answered composedly, "Ten,--and keep three to be fatted." Fatted, quotha! Not one of the beasts at present appears to possess an ounce of superfluous flesh.

Never were seen such lean kine.