D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Petrel Changes Hands. 21 harmony ; each contribuent component to this programme was distinct ; pork fried before it was associated with the other ingredients, fish of all sorts, sweet and bitter herbs, onions and their fierce brother, garlic; these blended into the supernal hodge-podge. The guest stretched his rather long arms as though, metaphorically, to embrace the delicious dish, seized the loaf like his dearest foe, and with the shortened scimeter, sliced off one piece for a sop, another to eat and a third to wipe his spoon on. He was supplied by precaution with one of those comprehensive instruments, embracing, in one handle, knife, spoon and fork, which the Italians in- vented and which other nations were slow in adopting. The negress knew what a fork, a spoon and a knife were, but never had she seen persons eat with them or hold them in combination. She followed their move- ments, which were not slow, with the eyes of one watch- ing a conjurer’s wand. The traveler used the spoon so quickly that the host felt enforced to apologize for him, while secretly admir- ing such prowess and compliment to his chef's abilities. “He comes from afar, and from the island where they open oysters with pitchforks! Again, these tall blades, they are hollow to their boots!” Twice only in ten minutes did the amateur of fish stew stop ladling 1t up, which was to cool his peppered tongue with a copious draft of the wine, not homemade and keenly sour; also he partitioned off these drafts with gobbets of the bread, made of Indian corn from Africa, since the natives, indolent about tillage, preferred to im- | port such breadstuff rather than grow wheat. At last appeased, and only spearing a bit of fish here and there in the tureen, he leaned back, with his shoulders against the wall, and assumed the attitude of one who— the main piece of life’s business over, next to sleeping— thought of less carnal matters. The host, who had been admiring his prowess as a trencher-man, changed his expression to a judging one. He scanned a man in the first prime of life, that is, about thirty years of age. He was dark brown, with golden-bronze reflections on the cheekbones and other sharp proturbances, He had not a wrinkle, but he was Gomichbookssco im