tide first breaking on a low strand, in small and tiny ripples,
then gradually coming bolder in, with courage more assured, and greater
force, the conversation of a dinner usually runs; till at last at the
high flood the great waves tumble madly one upon another, and the wild
chorus of the clashing water wakes up "the spirit of the storm."

Even without the aid of the "Physiologie du Gout," people will talk
of eating while they eat; and so the chitchat was _cuisine_ in all its
moods and tenses, each bringing to the common stock some new device
in cookery, and some anecdotes of his travelled experience in
"gourmandise," and while Mr. Linton and Lord Charles celebrated
the skill of the "Cadran," or the "Schwan" at Vienna, the Dean was
critically explaining to poor Mrs. Kennyfeck that Homer's heroes had
probably the most perfect _roti_ that ever was served, the juices of the
meat being preserved in such large masses.

"Soles, with a 'gratin' of fine gingerbread, I saw at Metternich's,"
said Mr. Linton, "and they were excellent."

"I like old Jules Perregaux's idea better, what he calls his _cotelettes
a la financiere_."

"What are they? I never tasted them."

"Very good mutton cutlets _en papillotte_, the envelopes being billets
de banque of a thousand francs each."

"Is it permitted to help one's self twice, my Lord?"

"I called for the dish again, but found it had been too successful. De
Brigues did a neat thing that way, in a little supper he gave to the
artistes of the Opera-Comique; the jellies were all served with rings in
them,--turquoise, diamond, emerald, pearl, and so on,--so that the fair
guests had all the excitement of a lottery as the _plat_ came round to
them."

"The kick-shaws required something o' that kind to make them endurable,"
said Sir Andrew, gruffly; "gie me a haggis, or a cockie-leekie."

"What is that?" said Miss Kennyfeck, who saw with a sharp malice how
angrily Lady Janet looked at the notion of the coming explanation.

"I 'll tell ye wi' pleasure, Miss Kannyfack, hoo to mak' a
cockie-leekie!"

"Cockie-leekie, _unde derivator_ cockie-leekie?" cried the Dean, who,
having taken a breathing canter through Homer and Horace, was quite
ready for the moderns.

"What, sir?" asked Sir Andrew, not understanding the question.

"I say, what 's the derivation of your cockie-leekie,--the etymology of
the phrase?"

"I dinna ken, and I dinna care. It's mair needfu' that one kens hoo to
mak' it