446 
OLE BEN’S HOSPITALITY. 
tion of plum-pudding, mutton, and custard to his 
unbelieving brothers. 
“ McGary, of course, told us his story: we hear it 
every day, and laugh at it almost as heartily as he 
does himself. Cassar Johnson is the guest of ‘ Ole 
Ben,’ colored gentlemen both, who do occasional white¬ 
washing. The worthies have dined stanclily on the 
dish of beans, browned and relished by its surmount¬ 
ing cube of pork. A hospitable pause, and, with a 
complacent wave of the hand, Ole Ben addresses the 
lady hostess:—‘ Ole woman! bring on de resarve.’ 
‘ Ha’n’t got no resarve.’ ‘Well, den,’—with a placid 
smile,—‘ bring on de beans!’ 
“ So much for the Merrie Christmas. What portion 
of its mirth was genuine with the rest I cannot tell, 
for we are practised actors some of us; but there was 
no heart in my share of it. My thoughts were with 
those far off, who are thinking, I know, of me. I 
could bear my own troubles as I do my eider-down 
coverlet; for I can see myself as I am, and feel sus¬ 
tained by the knowledge that I have fought my battle 
well. But there is no one to tell of this at the home- 
table. Pertinacity, unwise daring, calamity,—any of 
these may come up unbidden, as my name circles 
round, to explain why I am still away.” 
For some days before Christmas I had been medi¬ 
tating a sledge-journey to our Esquimaux neighbors. 
The condition of the little party under my charge left 
me no alternative, uncomfortable and hazardous as I 
knew that it must be. I failed in the first effort; but 
