Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions

the dinner--excellent. Early morn found me shaking hands with my illustrious _confrère_ the _chef_, in his turret-like kitchen. I thanked him much for his capital dinner. “Pray what have we for to-day?” was the last political question I put to him. I am unwilling to append the bill of fare, as it might give an unexpected appetite to my readers, and thus induce them to drop this light reading for something more substantial. That would not answer my purpose, as I wish them to go on with the book without depreciating the cook. The night had been rather rough, and every one on board was ill. The day passed as it generally does when persons have been so roughly nursed by the mother sea. The dinner was probably excellent, but no one could tell--not even myself. Towards night, the rolling waves grew a little more sociable; so we entered into conversation, and the wine and grog circulated freely. The captain, like all captains who have never been sick or drowned, laughed at us, saying we were bad sailors. “The title of ‘good sailor’ I am not ambitious to merit, captain,” said I. Next morning, I was on deck walking to and fro with the captain; the night had been a little calmer than the previous one, but very foggy. “Bless my soul!” said he, “what a bother it is we left Balaklava so late. It is just like his lordship--we never know when we are going to start. I would not give a fig for a voyage of pleasure at sea: business men, sir! business men for navigation. All is calculated and goes right; but for the present I don’t know where we are, it is so foggy. We are not far from the coast; but we can’t for the life of us get in, even if we were abreast of the entrance of the Bosphorus. We ought to have got under way, as I proposed, at nine o’clock. Have you good sight, sir?” “Yes, I have.” “Well, look with this glass to the right; I fancy I see the