An enthusiastic epicure was the Polish King, Stanislaus Leczinski, who invented many a new dish, and succeeded in vastly improving the style of cooking, astonishing the Lorrainers, amongst other things, by having served up at his table dishes of meat with fruits, both of which had been cooked together. Geese which had been plucked when alive, then whipped to death, and _marinées_ were set down in his bill of fare as foreign birds; and after a similar fashion turkeys were metamorphosed into _coqs de bruyères_, and were served at table buried under the strong-smelling herbs of Lorraine. One year was remarkable for the entire failure of the fruit crop, but Stanislaus would not be deprived of his dessert; for, turning his attention to confectionery, he made delicate compositions of sugared vegetables, especially turnips, and even now the Lorrainers dip their _babas_--cakes in which there are _raisins de caisse_ and saffron--into their wine, and think of the royal inventor. The story goes that on one occasion there appeared on the table of Stanislaus a large pie, and the guests were admiring its dimensions, beauty, and odour, when all of a sudden the almond cakes which covered it flew in all directions, and from beneath them leaped up Bébé, the ex-king’s favourite dwarf, armed like a knight. The whole table was in a roar of laughter, with the exception of one noble guest, whose nose the dwarf had pricked with his lance, and who vowed vengeance for the two or three drops of blood which fell. But, it is said, Stanislaus loved his dwarf so well that he provided for his security by placing him under the care of two soldiers of his bodyguard. Then again, Ferdinand I. of Naples was an epicure in fruit, and was wont to pride himself on the excellent varieties which were produced in his royal gardens, one of which was designated “Paradise.” Many years ago, too, Prince Metternich first tasted rhubarb in this country, and was so delighted with it that he had some plants sent to his Austrian garden. On the occasion of a large party in the following year, the Prince ordered rhubarb to be served up dressed as it was in this country. But the cook knew nothing of the English mode of cooking it, and selecting the large leaves served them up as spinach. As might be expected, the guests made wry faces at this unsavoury dish, and henceforth rhubarb was discarded from the Prince’s table. And, it may remembered, Ludovico, the Duke of Milan, carried this kind of epicurean luxury so far that he actually had a travelling fruit garden, the trees being brought to his table that he might gratify his taste by gathering the fruit with his own hands. Charles XII. of Sweden was often satisfied with simple bread and butter, and Joseph II. of Austria with omelets and hard bread.