A BAD CUP OF COFFEE. 
was not at all sleepy. So liis host would retire, and 
leave him, if he chose, to trim the midnight lamp. 
He would sit up until the oil in the tumbler was 
nearly done, and the lights began to touch the water 
underneath. We know — all planters have experienced — 
the disagreeable crackling noise the lamp makes, when 
it reaches this stage, noise which is a premonitory 
warning that sudden darkness will be at hand. The 
host himself, inside his owui room, would perhaps be 
awakened a couple of hours after he bad gone to sleep, 
with the crackling of the expiring lamp in the next 
room, and not be able to go to sleep again, for the 
strong smell of the oil wick came over the partition 
wall, for there was no ceiling, and it made him ver^^ 
uncomfortable. 
The crackling of the lamp, to the visitor himself, 
was just equal to a bell for bed, for at. the first crackle, 
knowing there was no time to be lost, if he wished 
to “ turn in” with light, he would off with his coat 
and trousers, throw them on the table, give his slioes 
a kick off, and raise his socks also on to the (aide ; he 
slept in the same shirt he wore during the day, for 
a staff officer in light marching order could not be 
expected, to cumber his baggage with unnecessary 
luxuries in the shape of night-shirts. At daylight, the 
host would be uj) and stirring about, calling out for 
coffee. This was hurriedly brought in the dull grey 
of the morning, and placed on the table, by the boy. 
The planter would come in and draw in a chair to the 
table, opposite the coffee-pot. But he had hardly 
tasted the coffee, when he would bawl out “ Boy I 
This coffee is bad, smells badly.” The boy would ap- 
proach, look curiously, no doubt, wondering, for he hatl 
his coffee in the kitchen out of the same brew, 
'and considered it particularly good. As light broke 
into the room, the condition of the table, and all the 
clothes upon it, now became apparent. The boy would 
then slowl}^ say, ‘‘ Sur, coffee veiy good, bad smell is 
not the coffee, it is master’s clothes, master’s socks,” 
and sure enough the table presented all the appearance 
of a dirty clothes rack, or as if the dhobi was har'iig 
the dirty clothes counted out ! 
The master “ flared up,” made a sweep over the table, 
and tumbled all the dirty clothes off, and over the head 
of #he occupant of the couch, wlm merely gave a sort 
of sigh of satisfaction, and turned on Ids other side. 
“This will never do,” said the host, who was now 
walking up and down the room, coffee cup in hand, 
occasionally taking a mouthful of what was now very 
good cofft'C. But “there ’smany a slip ’tweeu the cup 
and the lip.” Just as he had pronounced the coffee 
very good, he stumbles over his visitor’s shoes, trips, 
u 
