We were in a ravine where the pine forest was
magnificent, but one could see that the trees were shortened many feet
by the great depth of snow.
Our meals were brought to us by Bryant from the soldiers' mess, and as
the cook was only a pick-up, they were often a mess indeed, but every
effort was made to have them nice. The day after we got there the cook
evidently made up his mind that some recognition should be shown of
the honor of my presence in the woods, so he made a big fat pie for my
dinner. It was really fat, for the crust must have been mostly of
lard, and the poor man had taken much pains with the decorations of
twisted rings and little balls that were on the top. It really looked
very nice as Bryant set it down on the table in front of me, with an
air that the most dignified of butlers might have envied, and said,
"Compliments of the cook, ma'am!" Of course I was, and am still,
delighted with the attention from the cook, but for some reason I was
suspicious of that pie, it was so very high up, so I continued to talk
about it admiringly until after Bryant had gone from the cabin, and
then I tried to cut it! The filling - and there was an abundance - was
composed entirely of big, hard raisins that still had their seeds in.
The knife could not cut them, so they rolled over on the table and on
the floor, much like marbles.
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