_Guzman is engaged by a Cook._ I was well content in this new way of life, in which I enjoyed that _liberty_ so eagerly desired by all the world, so boasted of by philosophers, and so often sung of by poets: I possessed that precious treasure which is preferable to gold or silver; but unfortunately I did not long retain it, for a cursed cook soon deprived me of it. This cook was one of my most constant employers: “My friend,” said he one day, “I am well pleased with you, and am willing to put you in the way of making your fortune; quit your idle companions, and come and fill the place of scullion at my master’s which is now vacant; I will myself teach you the duties of the kitchen out of friendship, and qualify you to become cook to the King himself. Happen what may, the very least advantage you can derive from a knowledge of this fine art, is to enable you to return to your own country a rich man.” In short, he so completely cajoled me, that I willingly accepted his proposal. He then conducted me to the hotel of the nobleman whom he served, where I took my post and my scullion’s cap, that is a nightcap, with a white apron. The first thing that was given me was some parsley to shred; which is always considered like the alphabet to those who aspire to the higher degrees in the kitchen. The cook my master was a married man: he had a house in the neighbourhood where his wife lived, and where we both went home to sleep every night; but I passed the principal part of the day at the Hotel, where I was always ready to oblige every body. My activity and good-nature soon gained me the esteem of my fellow servants of both sexes. I performed their commissions with punctuality, secresy and fidelity, and was rewarded by many small gratifications in return. In the kitchen I performed my duty to admiration, and my master was so well satisfied with me, that he often said I was born to tread in his footsteps. I grant that all this cost me no small trouble, but then I was amply recompensed by the many advantages that my exertions procured me. Next to the profession of begging, which is undoubtedly the most charming condition of civilized society, I could not possibly fare better than I did in this kitchen; having been bred to good cheer, I felt myself completely in my element. No plate came in or went out of the kitchen but I had a lick at it, no sauce but what I tasted, and I can assure you my master made most exquisite ragouts. The cooks of St. Giles’s, of St. Dominick, of the Gate of the Sun, the great Market-place and Toledo Street, must excuse me if I rank him far above them in this art, notwithstanding the high reputation they have established.