d cupboards, and glistening
cooking utensils of most approved fashion. Already our _chef_ was at
his work, affording, in his own person, with all its good-natured
plumpness, a hint of the good things he could evolve from the
interesting scene of his labors. He was the best possible specimen of
a negro cook, handsome, fat, and jolly. He filled almost completely
his little kitchen; his plump and shining cheeks looking like the very
best and most exquisitely finished Parisian bronze. Set off by the
background of his cooking utensils and other objects of his serious
and responsible calling, he presented a picture worthy of a painter.
I felt, as I looked at him, that he was a genius in his way. His
subsequent work did not belie my instant instinct of his powers; for,
on a day long to be remembered, as we were speeding across one of the
most arid spots of our journey, somewhere in Arizona, he served up a
dinner worthy of a poet; then I felt proud of him. That day the outer
air was stifling. Our car was speeding through vast stretches of
yellow, heated sand; the sun poured down in full force; every window
was closed to keep out, as far as possible, the all-pervading dust. A
weary gloom spread over the liveliest of our company, and even dinner
was dreaded, as the time approached for that necessary function. At
last the meal was announced, and we all reached the dining-room in a
weary, limp condition, when a surprise awaited us. The artist of the
galley, our negro cook, got in his poetic work. I felt his fine touch
at once when I saw that there was to be no soup that day. Instead, we
had some delicate fish, served with most refreshing cucumbers on ice,
the sparkle of which, in the dim shaded light of our room, looked like
dewdrops. Every course thereafter had a suggestion of coolness about
it, gently hinting at our languor and its needs, so tenderly known and
intelligently relieved. Slices of fresh fruit and iced coffee ended a
repast, with the thermometer at well over 100 degrees, and yet every
guest at ease and at rest. I voted from my grateful inwards that, if I
could afford it, I would gladly give our good cook a bronze replica of
his own bronze face, as a humble token of my appreciation of his noble
art.

Among the further perfections of our land yacht were separate and
secluded apartments for our married friends and other privileged
parties, and ample berths for less favored mortals; there was also a
spacious dining-room,