i9t i] AN ARTIFICER COOK 237 
to be fully justified. For connected therewith was a 
contrivance for which he was entirely responsible, and 
which in its ingenuity rivalled any of which the hut could 
boast. The interior of the oven was so arranged that the 
< rising 9 of the bread completed an electric circuit, thereby 
ringing a bell and switching on a red lamp. Clissold 
had realised that the continuous ringing of the bell would 
not be soothing to the nerves of our party, nor the con- 
tinuous burning of the lamp calculated to prolong its 
life, and he had therefore added the clockwork mechanism 
which automatically broke the circuit after a short interval 
of time ; further, this clockwork mechanism could be 
made to control the emersion of the same warning signals 
at intervals of time varied according to the desire of the 
operator ; — thus because, when in bed, he would desire 
a signal at short periods, but if absent from the hut he 
would wish to know at a glance what had happened when 
he returned. Judged by any standard it was a remarkably 
pretty little device, but when I learnt that it had been 
made from odds and ends, such as a cog-wheel or spring 
here and a cell or magnet there, begged from other de- 
partments, I began to realise that we had a very excep- 
tional cook. Later when I found that Clissold was called 
in to consult on the ailments of Simpson's motor and that 
he was capable of constructing a dog sledge out of packing 
cases, I was less surprised, because I knew by this time 
that he had had considerable training in mechanical 
work before he turned his attention to pots and pans. 
My first impressions include matters to which I was 
naturally eager to give an early half-hour, namely the 
