A Second Soyer. i6t 



have spent many happy hours in this said spot ; the even- 

 ings were of a decidedly social character. The day's 

 hunting over, it was a delightful hour at about seven 

 p. M. — dinner just concluded, the chairs brought before 

 the fire, cigars and the said mulled port. Eight o'clock 

 was the hour for bed, and five in the morning was the 

 hour to rise, at which time a cup of hot tea and a slice 

 of toast and anchovy paste were always ready before the 

 start. The great man of our establishment was the 

 cook. This knight of the gridiron was a famous fel- 

 low, and could perform wonders ; of stoical counten- 

 ance, he was never seen to smile. His whole thoughts 

 were concentrated in the mysteries of gravies and 

 the magic transformation of one animal into another by 

 the art of cookery : in this he excelled to a marvelous 

 degree. The farce of ordering dinner was always ab- 

 surd. It was something in this style: "Cook!" 

 ( Cook answers), " Coming, sar ! " (enter cook) : " Now, 

 cook, you make a good dinner; do you hear?" Cook: 

 " Yes, sar : master tell, I make." — " Well, mulligatawny 

 soup." " Yes, sar." — " Calves' head, with tongue and 

 brain-sauce." " Yes, sar." — " Gravy omelette." " Yes, 

 sar." — " Mutton chops." " Yes, sar." — " Fowl cotelets." 

 " Yes, sar."—" Beefsteaks." " Yes, sar."—" Marrow- 

 bones." " Yes, sar."—" Rissoles." " Yes, sar." All 

 these various dishes he literally imitated uncommonly 

 well, the different portions of an elk being their only 

 foundation. 



The kennel bench was comfortably littered, and the 

 pack took possession of their new abode with the usual 

 amount of growling and quarreling for places ; the 

 angry grumbling continuing throughout the night be- 

 tween the three champions of the kennel — Smut, Bran 

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