contrasting
the dream-like delicacies of their hue and aspect, with the dire and
dure realities which now weigh so heavily on the region below my heart!
And thou, most beautiful of all--thou evening star of entremets--thou
that delightest in truffles, and gloriest in a dark cloud of
sauces--exquisite foie-gras!--Have I forgotten thee? Do I not, on the
contrary, see thee--smell thee--taste thee--and almost die with rapture
of thy possession? What, though the goose, of which thou art a part,
has, indeed, been roasted alive by a slow fire, in order to increase
thy divine proportions--yet has not our Almanach--the Almanach
des Gourmands--truly declared that the goose rejoiced amid all her
tortures--because of the glory that awaited her? Did she not, in
prophetic vision, behold her enlarged and ennobled foie dilate into
pates and steam into sautees--the companion of truffles--the glory
of dishes--the delight--the treasure--the transport of gourmands! O,
exalted among birds--apotheosised goose, did not thy heart exult even
when thy liver parched and swelled within thee, from that most agonizing
death; and didst thou not, like the Indian at the stake, triumph in the
very torments which alone could render thee illustrious?

After dinner we grew exceedingly merry. Vincent punned and quoted; we
laughed and applauded; and our Burgundy went round with an alacrity, to
which every new joke gave an additional impetus. Monsieur Jocko was
by no means the dullest in the party; he cracked his nuts with as much
grace as we did our jests, and grinned and chatted as facetiously as the
best of us. After coffee we were all so pleased with one another, that
we resolved not to separate, and accordingly we adjourned to my rooms,
Jocko and all, to find new revelries and grow brilliant over Curacoa
punch.

We entered my salon with a roar, and set Bedos to work at the punch
forthwith. Bedos, that Ganymede of a valet, had himself but just
arrived, and was unlocking the door as we entered. We soon blew up a
glorious fire, and our spirits brightened in proportion. Monsieur Jocko
sate on Vincent's knee--Ne monstrum, as he classically termed it. One of
our compotatores was playing with it. Jocko grew suddenly in earnest--a
grin--a scratch and a bite, were the work of a moment.

"Ne quid nimis--now," said Vincent, gravely, instead of endeavouring to
soothe the afflicted party, who grew into a towering passion. Nothing
but Jocko's absolute disgrace coul