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

you--it is only for two or three months--you will be well paid, and all expenses defrayed.” “It is very kind of you to make me the offer,” he replied; “but I cannot leave my business at a minute’s notice. How long could you give me to prepare?” “Oh! I am off this evening by the mail.” “I have no clothes ready for travelling.” “Never mind that; you can get all you require in Paris, where I shall remain two days upon business.” “Indeed! then in two hours I will give you a decided answer.” At the expiration of that time my friend made his appearance. We drew up an agreement, got his passport, and started the same evening; but not on the sly, as I had anticipated. Having forgotten to warn T. G. not to mention the fact of our intended journey, he had called upon several of his friends, with some of whom I was acquainted, and to my surprise, when I reached the station, I found about twenty assembled to bid us farewell. If I mention this circumstance, it is only to have an opportunity of publicly thanking those gentlemen for their hearty farewell, and three cheers--the echo of which still vibrates in my heart, and was through the whole of my culinary campaign a high source of gratification to my feelings. That night we slept at the Pavilion Hotel, Folkestone. CHAPTER IV. DELIGHTS OF TRAVEL. The lost pocket-book--Found at last--Scene at a station--Caught in a fog--Arrival at Boulogne--The Emperor’s first valet-de-chambre--An avalanche of earth--Table talk--Napoleon’s projected trip to the Crimea--News of the death of the Czar--An incredulous auditor--A bet quickly won--Paris--Lyons--Marseilles. The Boulogne steamer was to start at half-past seven in the morning; the weather was anything but favourable, as rain was falling in torrents, and a thick fog coming on. T. G. and myself were ready to start, when a sad adventure occurred--my pocket-book, containing the best part of my cash and my official letters, was not to be found.[5] As I recollected having put it safely in the side pocket of my great coat before