THE ARCHIPELAGO OF CHAUSEY. 61 



sions with true Spartan appetite. As may readily 

 be supposed, my bill of dinner fare was a very li- 

 mited one. A lobster constituted almost always the 

 main dish of the repast, taking the place of the 

 classic bouilli of our humbler households. The Nor- 

 man dairy-woman, who was serving her apprentice- 

 ship in the art of cooking at my expense, generally 

 added a whiting or a plaice caught the same morning. 

 Every ten or twelve days, I received a piece of fresh 

 meat from the main land ; and I feel confident that 

 the frequenters of Very's or Les Freres Proven^aux 

 never promised themselves a greater gastronomic 

 treat than I did when I beheld a piece of boiled beef 

 or mutton smoking before me. Sometimes a grate- 

 ful fisherman presented me, by way of fee, with a 

 plate of shrimps, or Master Baliie would bring me a 

 dish of artichokes from the continent in token of his 

 gratitude to me for saving his finger. The sour 

 home-made cider of the farm formed my beverage, 

 although I generally tempered this debilitating 

 drink with a few glasses of the wine which was sold 

 on the island under the pompous title of Bordeaux. 



This kind of life, so varied in its uniformity, was 

 interrupted from time to time by the visits of coasting 

 vessels. Their arrival was a regular holiday for me, 

 and I was not sorry, by joining the mess on board, to 

 return for a few hours to the civilised world. Some- 

 times they brought with them a party of gay pas- 

 sengers, who had been induced by the prospect of a 

 day's fishing to brave the horrors of sea- sickness. 

 One day even the Espiegle touched at Chausey 

 with a party on board, consisting of several worthy 



