Who introduced the turkey into America deponent sayeth not. Probably, like Topsy, it "growed" there. Anyhow the bird is so familiar a table-companion in the States, that Americans, when on tour in Europe, fight very shy of him. "Tukkey, sah, cranberry sarce," used to be the stereotyped reply of the black waiter when interrogated on the subject of the bill of fare. _Coloured Help_ is, however, gradually being ousted (together with sulphur matches) from the big hotels in New York, where white waiting and white food are coming into, or have come into, regular use. In fact, with the occasional addition of one or other of such special dishes as terrapin, soft-shell crab, clam chowder, and the everlasting pork and beans, a dinner in New York differs very little at the time of writing (1897) from one in London. The taste for _Clam Chowder_ is an acquired one, nor will stewed tortoise ever rank with thick turtle in British estimation, although 'tis not the same tortoise which is used in London households to break the coals with. A _Canvass-back Duck_, if eaten in the land of his birth, is decidedly the most delicately-flavoured of all the "Quack" family. His favourite food is said to be wild celery, and his favoured haunts the neighbourhood of Chesapeake Bay, from whose waters comes the much prized "diamond-back" terrapin, which is sold at the rate of 50$ or 60$ the dozen. The canvass-back duck, however, suffers in transportation; in fact, the tendency of the ice-house aboard ship is to rob all food of its flavour. But however good be the living in _New York City_ --where the hotels are the best in the world, and whose _Mr. Delmonico_ can give points to all sorts and conditions of food caterers--it is "a bit rough" in the provinces. There is a story told of a young actor, on tour, who "struck" a small town out West, and put up at a small inn. In the course of time dinner was served, and the landlord waited at table. The principal cover was removed, disclosing a fine joint of coarsish, indifferently-cooked beef. Our young actor was strangely moved at the sight. "What?" he cried. "Beef again? This is horrible! I've seen no other food for months, and I'm sick and tired of it. I can't eat beef." Whereupon his host whipped out a huge "six-shooter" revolver, and covering the recalcitrant beef-eater, coolly remarked: "Guess you kin!" But I don't believe that story, any more than I believe the anecdote of the cowboys and the daylight let through the visitor who couldn't eat beans. CHAPTER IX DINNER (_continued_) "The combat deepens. On ye brave, The _cordon bleu_, and then the grave! Wave, landlord! all thy _menus_ wave, And charge with all thy devilry!"