ists in titivating the appetite with delicate morsels so as to
prolong the pleasure. A well-regulated French dinner lasts two hours,
whereas you go off at score, and take the shine out of yourself before
you turn the Tattenham Corner of your appetite. But come, take another
glass of Chablis, for your voice is husky as though your throat was full
of dust.--Will you eat some of this boulli-vert?" "No, not no bouleward
for me thank ye." "Well, then, we will have the 'entree de
boeuf--beef with sauce tomate--and there is a cotelette de veau en
papillotte;--which will you take?" "I'll trouble the beef, I think; I
don't like that 'ere pantaloon cutlet much, the skin is so tough." "Oh,
but you don't eat the paper, man; that is only put on to keep this nice
layer of fat ham from melting; take some, if it is only that you may
enjoy a glass of champagne after it. There is no meat like veal for
paving the way for a glass of champagne." "Well, I don't care if I do,
now you have explained how to eat it, for I've really been troubled with
indigestion all day from eating one wholesale yesterday; but don't you
stand potatoes--pommes de terre, as we say in France?" "Oh yes, fried,
and a la maitre d'hotel; here they come, smoking hot. Now, J---- for a
glass of champagne--take it out of the pail--nay, man! not with both
hands round the middle, unless you like it warm--by the neck, so,"
showing him how to do it and pouring him a glass of still champagne.
"This won't do," said Jorrocks, holding it up to the candle; "garsoon!
garsoon!--no good--no bon--no fizzay, no fizzay," giving the bottom of
the bottle a slap with his hand to rouse it. "Oh, but this is still
champagne," explained the Yorkshireman, "and far the best." "I
don't think so," retorted Mr. Jorrocks, emptying the glass into his
water-stand. "Well, then, have a bottle of the other," rejoined the
Yorkshireman, ordering one. "And who's to pay for it?" inquired Mr.
Jorrocks. "Oh, never mind that--care killed the cat--give a loose to
pleasure for once, for it's a poor heart that never rejoices. Here it
comes, and 'may you never know what it is to want,' as the beggar boys
say.--Now, let's see you treat it like a philosopher--the wire is off,
so you've nothing to do but cut the string, and press the cork on one
side with your thumb.--Nay! you've cut both sides!" Fizz, pop, bang,
and away went the cork close past the ear of an old deaf general, and
bounded against the wall.--"Come, there