On arriving at the spot my curiosity was abundantly gratified and rewarded. I saw for the first time an immense ox in the process of being barbecued. And this was the process: A large trench had been dug in the ground, about six or seven feet wide, eight or ten feet long, and four or five feet deep. This trench had been filled with the best quality of beech or maple wood from the body of the trees. This had been set on fire and burned until there was left a bed of burning coals, some two or three feet deep, that did not emit a particle of smoke. The slaughtered ox had been laid completely open, and two large spits, about eight feet long, had been thrust through each fore and hind leg lengthwise, and four negroes or more, taking hold of the ends of these spits, had laid the ox over this trench above this bed of burning coals. There the bovine monarch lay, cooking as beautifully as in my childhood I had seen many a turkey, suspended by a long string, swinging before the large wood-fire that was burning and blazing upon the ample hearth of our family kitchen. And it was upon the same principle--the juices were all cooked in. The negroes were gathered around the ox, with large swabs upon long sticks, with which they incessantly "basted" it, with a liquid prepared for this purpose and standing in large kettles on either side of the trench. From time to time the large bed of coals was stirred, and occasionally they performed the difficult feat of turning over the entire ox, so that each side might be cooked at an equal rate of progress. This work they greatly enjoyed. There was enough of the wild and strange about it to gratify their excitable natures. For the time being they were supremely happy. The stillness of the night, the surrounding darkness, and the gleams of that large and brightly burning bed of coals in the overhanging tree-tops, gave to the whole scene a weird character which awoke all the enthusiasm of their untutored natures. Through the long night they cheerfully plied their task, stirring up from the depths the live burning coals, and "basting" and turning the ox as often as was necessary. Frequently they sang those strange, wild African songs that they are accustomed to improvise while at work and upon all kinds of occasions, and as they echoed among the forest-trees and floated out upon the night-air, the soft, sweet melody was most enchanting. As I left to go to my room for the night, and turned to look back upon them from the darkness, the strange scene seemed not unlike a company of Druid priests offering a sacrificial victim in some grand old English forest. In the morning I made them another visit. Many of the coals had turned to ashes, and the bed was much reduced in depth. But when the negroes put in their long poles, they stirred up an abundance of bright coals from the bottom. The ox, which had been placed over the fire at sundown the night before, was to be cooked until noon, when the grand