"That don't work in the manual," he replied; "use your brain and
ears."

Unnecessarily rough he was, but I don't know but what he wasn't right.

[Illustration: "I WASN'T SO VERY WRONG--JUST THE SLIGHT DIFFERENCE
BETWEEN PORT AND PRESENT ARMS"]


_April 10th._ I hear that I am going to be put on the mess crew. God
pity me, poor wretch! How shall I ever keep my hands from becoming
red? What a terrible war it is!


_April 11th._ Saw a basket ball game the other night. Never knew it
was so rough. I used to play it with the girls and we had such sport.
There seemed to be some reason for it then. There are a couple of
queer looking brothers on our team who seem to try utterly to demolish
their opponents. They remind me of a couple of tough gentlemen from
Scranton I heard about in a story once.


_April 12th._ The price of fags (gee! I'm getting rough) has gone up
again. This war is rapidly cramping my style.


_April 14th._ I have been too sick at heart to write up my diary--Eli
is dead! "Pop," the Jimmy-legs, found the body and has been promoted
to Chief Master-at-arms. It's an ill wind that blows no good. I
don't know whether it was because he found Eli or because he runs one