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tin, the absolute pinnacle is a debased dredging box,
which makes a bad goblet, being unpleasantly
sharp at its rim. At one end of this
table partly hid by the beer barrel, stands
Petersen, at the side Bonsall, and a
lime juice cask opposite marks my seat.
We are all standing, a momentary hush
is made among the sick, and I pronounce
our daily prayer. "Accept our gratitude
and restore us to our homes." After this
lengthened act of devotion we sit down
and look, not at our breakfast but at
each other.

It could may sound assured to those who
cannot understand the harrowing interest
which we three available feel in our
continued [health] ability to keep up, for me
to say that we spend at least five minutes
in a mutual detail of symptoms.
The state of gums shins and ankles, elbows
loins and kidneys is minutely canvassed
and compared with yesterday's. [Each
makes the others the recipients of his
[ills] and as I am an official sluice
gate for the discharge of such pent up
material they open upon me the]
the Pandora box of scurvy's protean abominations.
There is something sad, not
ludicrous in this.

Now for the bill of fare. "Who cooked"?
"Why Morton felt better and got up at six,"
is the answer. "Ah! Then we'll have a good
breakfast." First coffee, great comforts
to hard worked men. [Our coffee consists
of] one part of the genuine berry to three of
genuine navy bears. [Oftime?] (beany), here! No
matter we take kindly to this adulterated
comfort.] Next, sugar-: what complex
memories the word brings back! Sugar the veritable sugar has

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