e of the year it
is, there is always poultry and game on Wiltcher's _carte_, and one
sometimes meets a strange bird here. Gangas is a Japanese partridge. The
birds migrate to Northern Africa in winter and often cross to Spain,
where they are caught in large numbers. The plumage of the gangas is
very beautiful and the flesh is excellent eating. The outarde, or little
bustard, is often to be had at Wiltcher's, and it is the only place at
which I have eaten the great bustard, whose flesh is very much like a
turkey's. White pheasant is another bird I remember here. Excepting in
its plumage, it in no way differs from the ordinary pheasant. A feature
of Wiltcher's dinner is that no fruit is ever included in the menu,
although coffee is always served. The story goes that Wiltcher the
First, who took great pride in his table, found it during one winter
time almost impossible to give anything else as dessert beyond apples,
oranges, pears, and nuts, there being no other fruit on the market. One
day some diners rudely complained, and insisted on a change, expecting
perhaps that pineapple should be included in a dinner at this price.
"You wish a change in the dessert, I hear," said Mr. Wiltcher, in the
suave and courtly manner which had earned for him the sobriquet of "the
Duke"; "Very well, to-morrow you shall have a change." To-morrow, there
was no dessert upon the menu. When the reason for this was demanded, he
simply answered, "You wanted a change, and you've got it. I shall give
no fruit in future." This has become a tradition. Notwithstanding, it is
a remarkable dinner, and there is usually a good variety of sweets. As a
tip to people who want to drink champagne and are sometimes deterred by
the high prices demanded for well-known brands, while being always
suspicious of the sugary _tisanes_ supplied on the Continent, I may
mention that the champagne wines bearing Mr. Wiltcher's own name and
labelled according to taste as Dry Royal and Grand Cremant respectively,
are specially bottled for his establishment at Rheims; and, though the
price is little more than half that charged for _les grandes marques_,
they will be found pure, wholesome, and to the English and American
taste. Wiltcher's is rapidly becoming essentially an American house.

Justine's is a little fish restaurant on the Quai au Bois a Bruler, by
the side of the fish market. It has distinctly a bourgeois character. It
is not the sort of place you would choose to tak