THE SPORTSMAN IN FRANCE. 43 



at a loss to understand the worthy man, 

 but discovered at length that he had been 

 labouring under a very pardonable error. 

 He thought the corned beef was a dish 

 named pot-luck ! and not a phrase to 

 convey the meaning of homely fare. This 

 was subsequently confirmed by several 

 families, who told us that the old gentle- 

 man had been loud in his praises of a 

 •plat de boeuf saU, that we called pot- 

 luck ! 



This is only one of several ludicrous 

 mistakes he made. Speaking of pot- 

 luck reminds me of a curious, and 

 certainly an equivocal invitation I once 

 received from a French nobleman, during 

 a visit I paid to the French capital some 

 years ago. 



My family had the pleasure of being 

 acquainted with the Vicomte de Cham- 

 bre, during his residence in this country, 

 and whenever I visited Paris, his house 



