General Garrett asked the man what he was going to do with the fat.
“Throw it away, general,” was the answer.
“Throw it away!—why?” said the General.
“I don’t know, sir, but we always do.”
“Why not use it?”—“The men don’t like it, sir.”
I observed that when the salt meat was cooked in the small canteen pans, the fat was lost for want of the necessary quantity of water to allow it to rise to the surface, as well as to purify it of the salt. Asking the man for a leaden spoon and a tin can, I removed the fat as I had before done in the Guards’ camp. On weighing it the next day, I found upwards of 14lbs. of beautiful clean and sweet dripping, fit for use as described in the receipts. Thus about 800lbs. of this were wasted weekly by each regiment—salt rations being issued four days a week.
General Garrett expressed a decided opinion that my apparatus was much superior to the old canteen pan, and gave me a letter, which I append in the [Addenda].
The signature of the treaty of peace changed all the proceedings in the camp, except mine; for in anticipation of the distribution of the remainder of the stoves among the various regiments in the camps at Aldershot barracks, &c., as well as to those on foreign stations, I continued my daily course of instruction, in order that the men, upon arrival at home or elsewhere, might be well acquainted with their use, and be able to impart their knowledge to others. I have since hit upon a plan by which I shall introduce an oven and steamer, and thus do all that is required to vary the cooking of the daily meals in barracks—a subject of great importance.
War having ceased, the camp bore the appearance of a monster banqueting-hall. “We have done fighting,” said every one, “so let us terminate the campaign by feasting, lay down our victorious but murderous weapons, and pick up those more useful and restorative arms—the knife and fork.”
All appeared to have caught a giving-parties mania. You could scarcely meet a friend or even a slight acquaintance without being apostrophized by, “When will you dine with me?” as regularly as though it had been inserted in the order of the day. The first invitation I received was from the witty General Barnard, who so generously entertained his friends, under the superintendence of his major-domo, Captain Barnard (the gallant general’s son). A good table, good wine, and plenty of everything, or at least the best that could be obtained, were provided; and no less than five times had I the honour of being invited to enjoy the noble general’s good cheer. Next came invitations from my noble friend and neighbour, General Garrett, Lord W. Paulet, Colonel de Bathe, Colonel Peel, Major Fielden, Lord Vane, Lord Dunkellin, and the great epicure of epicures, Colonel Haley, of the 47th, &c., &c.; to each and all of whom I cannot but feel grateful—not alone for their liberal welcome, but also for the honour of having been admitted to their friendship.