t taste
of cookery possessed by the jolly Recollet. The single approbation
of Father De Berey was worth more than the praise of a world full of
ordinary eating mortals, who smacked their lips and said things were
good, but who knew no more than one of the Cent Suisses why things were
good, or could appreciate the talents of an artiste of the cordon bleu.

Maitre Guillot's Easter pie had been a splendid success. "It was
worthy," he said, "to be placed as a crown on top of the new Cathedral
of St. Marie, and receive the consecration of the Bishop."

Lest the composition of it should be forgotten, Maitre Guillot had, with
the solemnity of a deacon intoning the Litany, ravished the ear of Jules
Painchaud, his future son-in-law, as he taught him the secrets of its
confection.

With his white cap set rakishly on one side of his head and arms akimbo,
Maitre Guillot gave Jules the famous recipe:

"Inside of circular walls of pastry an inch thick, and so rich as easily
to be pulled down, and roomy enough within for the Court of King
Pepin, lay first a thick stratum of mince-meat of two savory hams of
Westphalia, and if you cannot get them, of two hams of our habitans."

"Of our habitans!" ejaculated Jules, with an air of consternation.

"Precisely! don't interrupt me!" Maitre Guillot grew red about the gills
in an instant. Jules was silenced. "I have said it!" cried he; "two hams
of our habitans! what have you to say against it--stock fish, eh?"

"Oh, nothing, sir," replied Jules, with humility, "only I thought--"
Poor Jules would have consented to eat his thought rather than fall out
with the father of his Susette.

"You thought!" Maitre Guillot's face was a study for Hogarth, who alone
could have painted the alto tone of voice as it proceeded from his round
O of a mouth. "Susette shall remain upon my hands an old maid for the
term of her natural life if you dispute the confection of Easter pie!"

"Now listen, Jules," continued he, at once mollified by the contrite,
submissive air of his future son-in-law: "Upon the foundation of the
mince-meat of two hams of Westphalia,--or, if you cannot get them, of
two hams of our habitans,--place scientifically the nicely-cut pieces
of a fat turkey, leaving his head to stick out of the upper crust, in
evidence that Master Dindon lies buried there! Add two fat capons, two
plump partridges, two pigeons, and the back and thighs of a brace of
juicy hares. Fill up the whole with beaten