Well, I wandered on and on, till at last I came to a great kitchen that looked lively enough. Lots of men were moving about, fires were burning, and there was a lovely scent of roast chickens and boiled garden-sass--I beg pardon, vegetables. I would have gone in and asked some questions about the wash-tubs, but not a female woman was to be seen--and I hope I know what is due to my sex too well for any attempt to draw the attention of men in the service of their country by the presence of attractions that--well, I was going to say that the charm of high female society might have seemed a little out of place so low down in that stone wilderness. So I took a new turn, and came out in a grand eating department, crowded full of tables, where ever so many gentlemen and ladies were eating, talking, laughing, and drinking bottled cider till their eyes sparkled. I went into the room with that quiet dignity which some people have said was the greatest charm of your missionary, and spreading out my skirts a little, sat down by one of the tables. A very genteel young man came up to me that minute, as hospitable as could be, and asked with a bow what I would please to have. "Oh, almost anything that isn't too much trouble," says I. Says he, "There is everything on the cart." He pronounced "cart" with a drawl that riled me, for, if there is anything I hate, it is the stuck-up way some people have of twistifying common words: but I didn't want to rebuke the fellow too much, and answered in the bland and Christian way you have so often praised, my dear sisters, that I did not wish to stay long enough for them to unload a cart, but if he had just as lief as not, would take some baked pork and beans--that is, if there was any handy. The fellow shook his head. "No pork and beans!" says I; "do you call this national house-keeping?" That brought the fellow up to a sense of duty in no time. He snatched up a little thin book that lay on the table, read it a minute, and then went off. By and by he came back with a dish in his hand, on which were a few beans, all brown and crisped to death, with a skimpy slice of pork lying across the top. I took the dish in my hands, and examined it up and down, right and left, with an air that must have cut that fellow to the soul, if he had one. "You call that pork and beans?" says I, a-lifting my forefinger, and almost shaking it at him. "Why, young man, it looks more like a handful of gravel-stones." The young man spread his hands a little, and looked so confused that I began to feel sorry for him.