HUT. 231 



Nothing, however, disturbed the equanimity of my friend 



M ; he considered the chasse, the style of shooting, and 



the dogs all perfect, and returned home to his dinner and 

 Romance with imperturbable good humour whether successful 

 or not. I now and then killed a woodcock, which was a 

 source of great exultation, and had rarely been achieved by 

 the owner of the chasse; but the covers being continually 

 beaten by running dogs, and these the most noisy of their 

 kind, what game there was was soon driven away; the only 

 thing in our favour was that the neighbouring chasses were 

 hunted in a similar manner, so that the poor hares were puz- 

 zled where to find a resting-place from their ceaseless tor- 

 mentors, and I should imagine by this time must have 

 quitted the country in despair. 



Many were the little excursions I made with this prince 

 of gourmets and good-natured souls, in the above-mentioned 

 vehicle, to various small hostelries on the banks of the 

 Meuse, each famous for some particular plat, and which 

 was certain to be cooked in the highest perfection the 

 respective cuisines could effect on the appearance of Monsieur 



M . Here I was first initiated into the gastronomic 



mysteries of a Meuse eel, grillee entiere, with a peculiar sauce 

 piquante, or a succulent Meuse carp, frit avec la laitance. 

 He had a strong penchant for various combinations of the 

 sausage genus, peculiar to this porcine district; and at his 

 own table a hare underwent a wondrous variety of forms of 

 preparation. 



Music, and particularly vocal, had also its charms for my 

 jovial friend, and he would often troll with stentorian lungs 

 many ancient romances of his own country, and the chansons 

 de J3eranger were his peculiar favourites. It was whispered 

 that he was not inaccessible to the tender passion, and was 

 certainly a colossal representative of a middle-aged Cupid. 

 But, even with, such a companion, I began as usual to sigh 



