And hence they take kindly to venison and such like things, and they remember with satisfaction the advice of St. Paul to the gentle Timothy, to "use a little wine for the stomach's sake."
McCormick was not only the subject to be honored on this occasion, but to do honor to himself. He has actually cooked his own dinner, and has done it well. My sailing-master is a very extraordinary person, and there seems to be no end to his accomplishments. Possessing a bright intellect, a good education, and a perfect magazine of nervous energy, he has, while knocking about the world, picked up a smattering of almost every thing known under the sun, from astronomy to cooking, and from seamanship to gold-digging. And he is something of a philosopher, for he declares that he will have all the comfort he can get when off duty, while he does not seem to regard any sort of exposure, and is quite careless of himself, when on duty; and besides, he appears to possess that highly useful faculty of being able to do for himself any thing that he may require to be done by others. He can handle a marline-spike as well as a sextant, and can play sailor, carpenter, blacksmith, cook, or gentleman with equal facility. So much for the man; now for his feast.
THE SAILING-MASTER
A day or so ago I found lying on my cabin-table a neat little missive which politely set forth, that "Mr. McCormick presents the compliments of the officers' mess to the Commander, and requests the honor of his company to dinner in their cabin, on the 21st instant, at six o'clock." And I have answered the summons, and have got back again into my own den overwhelmed with astonishment at the skill of my sailing-master in that art, the cultivation of which has made Lucullus immortal and Soyer famous, and highly gratified to see both officers and men so well pleased. The bill of fare, "with some original illustrations by Radcliffe," set forth a very tempting invitation to a hungry man, and its provisions were generally fulfilled. There was a capital soup—jardinière—nicely flavored, a boiled salmon wrapped in the daintiest of napkins, a roast haunch of venison weighing thirty pounds, and a brace of roast eider-ducks, with currant-jelly and apple-sauce, and a good variety of fresh vegetables; and after this a huge plum-pudding, imported from Boston, which came in with the flames of Otard flickering all around its rotund lusciousness; and then there was mince-pie and blanc-mange and nuts and raisins and olives and Yankee cheese and Boston crackers and coffee and cigars, and I don't know what else besides. There were a couple of carefully-treasured bottles of Moselle produced from the little receptacle under my bunk, and some madeira and sherry from the same place.
A BIRTHDAY DINNER.
The only dish that was purely local in its character was a mayonnaise of frozen venison (raw) thinly sliced and dressed in the open air. It was very crisp, but its merits were not duly appreciated. The "Bill" wound up thus:—"Music on the fiddle by Knorr. Song, 'We won't go home till mornin',' by the mess. Original 'yarns' always in order, but 'Joe Millers' forbidden on penalty of clearing out the 'fire-hole' for the balance of the night."
I left the party two hours ago in unrestrained enjoyment of the evening. And right good use do they appear to be making of the occasion. The whole ship's company seem to be like Tam O'Shanter,—
"O'er a' the ills o' life victorious,"
without, however, so far as I can discover, any thing of the cause which led to that renowned individual's satisfactory state of mind. The sailors are following up their feast with a lively dance, into which they have forced Marcus and Jacob; while the officers, like true-born Americans, are making speeches. At this moment I hear some one proposing the health of "The Great Polar Bear."
