which you get in an eating house, but a vastly superior article. We, or rather my messmate, cut a rib from off the aforementioned beef, scored the flesh across, and placed the bone in the centre of a beautifully clear fire which had been specially prepared. It was placed there by means of the tongs--a weapon of inestimable value in Parlour Cookery--and withdrawn by the same medium. Some of the black wanted scraping off the surface of the meat, but the grill was a perfect dream. The GUBBINS SAUCE, already mentioned in this volume, had not at that time been invented; but as I was never without a bottle of TAPP SAUCE--invaluable for Parlour Cookery; you can get it at Stembridge's--we had plenty of relish. Then we severed another rib from the carcase, and served it in the same manner. For it was winter time and we had wearied of frigid ox. Next morning the landlady's face was a study. I rather think that after some conversation, we propitiated her with an order for two for the dress circle; but it is certain that we had tripe that evening. An ideal supper in _miladi's boudoir_ is associated, in the writer's mind, with rose-coloured draperies, dainty china, a cosy fire, a liberal display of _lingerie_, a strong perfume of heliotrope and orris root--and _miladi_ herself. When next she invites her friends, she will kindly order the following repast to be spread:-- Clear soup, in cups. Fillets of soles Parisienne. Chaudfroid of Quails. Barded sweetbreads. Perigord pâté. By way of contrast, let me quote a typical supper-dish which the "poor player" used to order, when he could afford it. _Kidney Dumpling._ Cut a large Spanish onion in half. Take out the heart, and substitute a sheep's kidney, cut into four. Season with salt and pepper, join the two halves, and enclose in a paste. Bake on a buttered tin, in a moderate oven, for about an hour. _N.B._--Be sure the cook _bakes_ this dumpling, as it is not nice boiled. An artistic friend who at one time of his life resided near the great horse-training centre of Middleham, in Yorkshire, gave a steak supper at the principal inn, to some of the stable attendants. The fare was highly approved of. "Best Scotch beef I ever put tooth into!" observed the "head lad" at old Tom Lawson's stables. "Ah!" returned the host, who was a bit of a wag, "your beef was cut from a colt of Lord Glasgow's that was thought highly of at one time; and he was shot the day before yesterday." And it was so. For Lord Glasgow never sold nor gave away a horse, but had all his "failures" shot. And then a great cry went up for brown brandy. CHAPTER XVII "CAMPING OUT" "Thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on."