A tall, red-faced, light-haired young man in fatigue dress was attending a kettle of soup, the savory steams of which were very attractive.
Seeing that I was observing his occupation, he politely ladled out a tin-cupful of the liquid and offered it to me.
I declined it, saying we should have our dinner immediately.
"They left me here to get their dinner," said he, apparently not displeased to have some one to talk to; "and I thought I might as well make some soup.

Down on the German Flats, where I come from, they always like soup." "Ah! you are from the German Flats--then your name must be Bellinger or Weber." "No, it isn't--it's Krissman." "Well, Krissman, how do you like the service ?" "Very well.

I was only recruited last summer.

I used to ride horse on the _Canawl_, and, as I can blow a horn first-rate, I expect I will soon be able to play on a bugle, and then, when I get to be musician, you know, I shall have extra pay." I did not know it, but I expressed due pleasure at the information, and wishing Krissman all manner of success in his dreams of ambition, or rather, I should say, of avarice, for the hopes of "extra pay" evidently preponderated over those of fame, I returned to my own quarters.
My husband, with his French tastes, was inclined to be somewhat disappointed when I told him of this little incident, and my refusal of Krissman's soup; but we were soon gratified by seeing his tall, awkward form bearing a kettle of the composition, which he set down before the two gentlemen, by whom, to his infinite satisfaction, it was pronounced excellent.
Everything being at length in readiness, the tents were struck and carried around the Portage, and my husband, the Judge, and I followed at our leisure.
The woods were brilliant with wild flowers, although it was so late in the season that the glory of the summer was well-nigh past.

But the lupin, the moss-pink, and the yellow wallflower, with all the varieties of the helianthus, the aster, and the solidago, spread their gay charms around.