y they had not to be translated or explained; they were
simply the most unusual English applied in that crisp exact fashion that
is an art in itself, meaning _exactly_ what is necessary to present an
idea. The whole entertainment was cooked for, and waited on by, a most
delightful coloured lady called Cassandra, who chewed gum and joined in
the conversation.

Fancy the consternation and horror of Mrs. Spleist or Mrs. Craik V.
Purdy, if either had been the hostess of such a party! They would have
apologised the whole time. It was all enchanting.

"Now, Mr. Johnson," Cassandra said (our host's name is Burke Johnson),
"why yo go for to put all de peas in dat great heap on yo plate? Didn't
I tell yo to be careful? Dey won't go 'round." And she looked like a
reproving mother to a greedy boy, showing her splendid teeth in a grin.
We were so amused. But when the subjects interested her she would pause
with a dish in the air and give her opinion in the friendliest way, not
the least impertinently, but as some fond, privileged Nanny might at a
children's party.

"Fact is, you spoil Mr. Johnson, Cassandra," Nelson said; "you feed him
too well and keep him too snug." Then she tossed her head, "Mr. Johnson
is my care, Mr. Nelson," she said; "you can talk 'bout that to some
other coloured lady," and her laugh rang out like a silver bell.

I cannot give you any idea, Mamma, of how perfectly delightful all these
people are.

After dinner we played a game of poker in the sitting-room, not for
high stakes, only just chaff and fun, and Tom made outrageous love to
Columbia, who answered him with the cleverest parries. American girls
are miles ahead of us in brilliant repartee. Then someone played the
piano and we all sang songs, and from the kitchen where Cassandra was
washing up the dishes, came the most melodious second in that sweet
perfect harmony which the negroes seem so well to understand.

Placed carelessly among some books on a table by the side of the piano
were two revolvers (I must call them "guns" here, because that is their
name) and I did such a silly thing without thinking, so unaccustomed are
we at home to realise anything could be loaded that was casually lying
about. I picked one up and examined the tracing on the barrel, never
noticing that it was pointing straight up at my head, until I felt
Nelson's iron grip upon my wrist, while he took it from my hand. His
face was white as death. "My God!" he said, "my God,