soldiers, to take care that the food is actually in their hands in an
eatable form, and the clothes on their backs.

It is for American soldiers to judge how much of this applies to their
case. The great majority of the volunteers must be handy, self-helping
men; and bands of citizens from the same towns or villages must be
disposed and accustomed to concerted action; but cooking is probably the
last thing they have any of them turned their hand to. Much depends on
the source of their food-supply. I fear they live on the country they
are in,--at least, when in the enemy's country. This is very easy
living, certainly. To shoot pigs or fowls in road or yard is one way of
getting fresh meat, as ravaging gardens is a short way of feasting on
vegetables. But supposing the forces fed from a regular commissariat
department, is there anything to be learned from the Crimean campaigns?

The British are better supplied with the food of the country, wherever
they are, than the French, because it is their theory and practice to
pay as they go; whereas it is the French, or at least the Bonapartist
theory and practice, to "make the war support itself," that is, to live
upon the people of the country. In the Peninsular War, the French often
found themselves in a desert where they could not stay; whereas, when
Wellington and his troops followed upon their steps, the peasants
reappeared from all quarters, bringing materials for a daily market. In
the Crimea, the faithful and ready payments of the English commissariat
insured plenty of food material, in the form of cattle and flour,
biscuit and vegetables. The defect was in means of transport for
bringing provisions to the camp. The men were trying to eat hard salt
meat and biscuit, when scurvy made all eating difficult, while herds
of cattle were waiting to be slaughtered, and ship-loads of flour were
lying seven miles off. Whole deck-loads of cabbages and onions were