294 THE COOKERY OF VENISON 



So much so, that he could afford to close his brilliant 

 improvisations on the piano with the confession, 



I'm very much pleased with your fare, 

 Your cellar's as prime as your cook. 

 My friend's Mr. Terry the player, 

 And I'm Mr. Theodore Hook. 



Dropping into poetry, like Silas Wegg, naturally 

 suggests Goldsmith's famous ' Haunch of Venison.' 

 The tuneful Oliver, who paid his way by fiddle-playing 

 abroad, and went singing through the world, ' with a 

 light heart and a thin pair of breeches,' said rueful 

 grace in immortal verse for a gift he had received but 

 never enjoyed. We all know the tale of that quarter 

 of venison, and the recipient spoke of it feelingly, 



... for finer or fatter 



Never rang'd in a forest or smok'd on a platter. 

 The haunch was a picture for painters to study, 

 The fat was so while, and the lean was so ruddy. 



Hesitating ' to spoil such a delicate picture,' the 

 haunch went to Sir Joshua in Leicester Square, doubt- 

 less in gratitude for many a good dinner in prospec- 

 tive. Reynolds might paint it or eat it, as he pleased, 

 but Oliver kept the neck and breast. He had not 

 been so generous as appeared at first sight, for, in 

 our opinion, a good neck can more than hold its own 

 with the haunch ; and as for the breast, that goes 



