yes, sir," replied Memnon. "Fresh every
morning. You must ask the steward to let you see the _cafe-au-lait_
herd--"

"The what?" I demanded.

"The _cafe-au-lait herd_," repeated Memnon. "A special permit is
required to go through the coffee pasture where these cows are fed.
Some one, who had a grudge against Pales, who is in charge of the
dairymaids, got into the field one night and sowed a lot of chicory in
with the coffee, and the result was that the next season we got the
worst coffee from those cows you ever tasted. So they made a rule that
no one is allowed to go there any more without a card from the
steward."

"You don't mean to say--" I began.

"Yes, I do," said Memnon. "It is true. We pasture our cows on a coffee
farm, and, instead of milk, we get this that you are drinking."

"Wonderful idea!" said I.

"It is, indeed," said Memnon; "that is, from your point of view. From
ours, it does not seem so strange. We are used to marvels here, sir,"
he continued. "Would you care for anything more, sir?"

"No, Memnon," said I. "I have fared sumptuously--my--ah--my appetite
is somewhat taken away by all these tremendous things."

"I will have an appetite up for you, if you wish," he replied, simply,
as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"No, thank you," said I. "I think I'll wait until I am acclimated. I
never eat heavily for the first twenty-four hours when I am in a
strange place."

And with this I went to the door, feeling, I must confess, a trifle
ill. The steak and coffee were all right, but there was a suggestion
of pain in my right side. I could not make up my mind if it were the
six hundred melons or whether a nugget from the omelet had got caught
in my vermiform appendix.

At any rate, I didn't wish to eat again just then.

At the door the sedan-chair and the two little blackamoors were
awaiting me.

"We have orders to take you to the Zoo, sah," said Sambo.

"All right, Sambo," said I. "I'm all ready. A little air will do me
good."

And we moved along.

I forgot to mention that, as he closed the chair door upon me, Memnon
handed me back the silver dollar I had given him.

"What is this, Memnon?" said I.

"The dollar you wished me to keep for you, sir," he replied.

"But I intended it for you," said I.

His face flushed.

"I am just as much obliged, sir, but, really, I couldn't, you know.
We don't take tips in Olympus, sir."

"Indeed?" said I. "Well--I'm sorry to have offend