"It's nothing but an omelet, sir," he replied; "but it is made of eggs laid by the goose of whom you have probably read in the _Personal Recollections of Jack the Giant-Killer_. They are solid gold." "Heavens!" I cried. "Solid gold! Great Scott, Memnon, I can't digest a solid gold omelet. What do you think I am--an assay office?" Memnon grinned until every tooth in his head showed, making his mouth look like the keyboard of a grand piano. "It is perfectly harmless the way it is prepared in the kitchen, sir," he explained. "It isn't an eighteen-karat omelet, as you seem to think. The eggs are solid, but the omelet is not. It is, indeed, only six karats fine. The alloy consists largely of lactopeptine, hydrochloric acid, and various other efficient digestives which render it innocuous to the most delicate digestion." "Very well, Memnon," I replied, making a wry face, "bring it on. I'll try a little of it, anyhow." I must confess it did not sound inviting, but a guest should never criticise the food that is placed before him. My politeness was well repaid, for nothing more delicate in the way of an omelet has ever titillated my palate. There was a slight metallic taste about it at first, but I soon got over that, just as I have got used to English oysters, which, when I eat them, make me feel for a moment as if I had bitten off the end of a brass door-knob; and had I not calculated the cost, I should have asked for a second helping. Memnon then brought me a platter containing a small object that looked like a Hamburg steak, and a most delicious cup of _cafe au lait_. "Filet Olympus," he observed, "and coffee direct from the dairy of the gods." Both were a joy. "Never tasted such a steak!" I said, as the delicate morsel actually melted like butter in my mouth. "No, sir, you never did," Memnon agreed. "It is cut from the steer bred for the sole purpose of supplying Jupiter and his family with tenderloin. We take the calf when it is very young, sir, and surround it with all the luxuries of a bovine existence. It is fed on the most delicate fodder, especially prepared by chemists under the direction of AEsculapius. The cattle, instead of toughening their muscles by walking to pasture, are waited upon by cow-boys in livery. A gentle amount of exercise, just enough to keep them in condition, is taken at regular hours every day, and at night they are put to sleep in feather beds and covered with eiderdown quilts at seven o'clock." "Don't they rebel?" I asked. "I should think a moderately active calf would be hard to manage that way." [Illustration: CARING FOR THE CALVES] "Oh, at first a little, but after a while they come to like it, and by the time they are ready for killing they are as tender as humming birds' tongues," said Memnon. "If you take him young enough, you can do almost anything you like with a calf." It seemed like a marvellous scheme, and far more humane than that of fattening geese for the sale of their livers.