This is said with all respect to the manufacturers of beans and pickles who may advertise in the papers.
For a time, however, beans and pickles seemed to be the nearest outlook for us, but after a while the cook, whose nerves had been shaken by the impetuous advance of the rhino, arose to the demands of the occasion and set up a table upon which soon appeared some hot tea, some bread and honey, some beans and deviled ham, and a few knickknacks in the line of jam and cheese.

That was luncheon, and we resolved to do better for dinner.
We told the cook all about Thanksgiving Day and what its chief purpose was.

We also told him of the beautiful significance of the occasion, what happy thoughts it inspired, and how much sentiment was attached to it.

Then we told him to get busy.

We were in a Thanksgiving mood, being grateful that we were not riding around on the bowsprit of the rhino, and also because our relatives and friends at home were well at last reports, two months old.
True, our guide, who had never been over the trail before and who was trying to guess the way by instinct, had got us hopelessly becalmed in a sea of high grass so that we didn't know where we were.