ptied rapidly; good appetites and open air make every thing appear
excellent. They make plates out of paper, and toss pieces of pate and
sausage to each other. They eat, they drink, they sing, they laugh and
play tricks. It seems a struggle who shall be funniest. It is well known
that all things are allowable in the country; and the cits now assembled
in the wood of Romainville seem fully persuaded of the fact. A jolly old
governor of about fifty tries to carve a turkey, and can't succeed. A
little woman, very red, very fat, and very round, hastens to seize a
limb of the bird; she pulls at one side, the jolly old governor at the
other--the leg separates at last, and the lady goes sprawling on the
grass, while the gentleman topples over in the opposite direction with
the remainder of the animal in his hand. The shouts of laughter
redouble, and M. Moutonnet--such is the name of the jolly old
governor--resumes his place, declaring that he will never try to carve
any thing again. 'I knew you would never be able to manage it,' said a
large woman bluntly, in a tone that agreed exactly with her starched and
crabbed features. She was sitting opposite the stout gentleman, and had
seen with indignation the alacrity with which the little lady had flown
to M. Moutonnet's assistance.

"'In the twenty years we have been married,' she continued, 'have you
ever carved any thing at home, sir?'

"'No, my dear, that's very true;' replied the stout gentleman in a
submissive voice, and trying to smile his better half into good-humour.

"'You don't know how to help a dish of spinach, and yet you attempt a
dish like that!'

"'My dear--in the country, you know----'

"'In the country, sir, as in the town, people shouldn't try things they
can't perform.'

"'You know, Madame Moutonnet, that generally I never attempt any
thing--but to day'----

"'To day you should have done as you do on other days,' retorted the
lady.

"'Ah, but, my love, you forget that this is Saint Eustache----'

"'Yes, yes, this is Saint Eustache!' is repeated in chorus by the whole
company, and the glasses are filled and jingled as before.

"'To the health of Eustache; Eustache for ever!'

"'To yours, ladies and gentlemen,' replied M. Moutonnet graciously
smiling--'and yours, my angel.'

"It is to his wife M. Moutonnet addresses himself. She tried to assume
an amiable look, and condescends to approach her glass to that of M.
Eustache Moutonnet. M. Eustache Mout