Oh! how good, how delicious, how refreshing was that long, cool draught; how grateful to the parched palate its exquisite acidity of flavour! You talk of nectar; but my belief at that moment was that nectar was merely lemonade under another name!  I smacked my lips audibly as I gasped for breath after emptying the tumbler, and my sable friend smiled with satisfaction.  Then, still holding me, she poured about a wine-glassful of very dark-brown--almost black--liquid from the porcelain jug into the cup and presented it to me.  This, too, I drank, for I was still thirsty; but the "medicine" was by no means so palatable as the lemonade, being of an exceedingly pungent, bitter taste, and I am afraid I made a rather wry face as the negress removed the cup from my lips.