A CULINARY CAMPAIGN BY A. SOYER ILLUSTRATED BY H. G. HINE. [Illustration: Title Page] INTRODUCTION. A SUPPER AT THE “ALBION,” AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. Old Drury--Juvenile mirth--A sudden arrest--An invitation--No excuse--Getting home--Mind your pockets--A trip to the “Wellington”--An intelligent waiter--Reading the news--A sudden inspiration--Letter to the _Times_--The stupid waiter again--Little Jack--Supper fare--Receipts--Tough kidneys--How to cook them--Kidneys _à la_ Roberto Diavolo--Kidneys _à la brochette_--New bill of fare for London Suppers. “Hurrah! hurrah! bravo! bravo!” For a few minutes rounds of applause and shouts of laughter from the juveniles were heard and loudly re-echoed throughout the vast cupola of Old Drury, sending home the delighted spectators, in fits of sneezing and coughing, through a variegated atmosphere. Sir Henry W----, turning to me, exclaimed, “Hallo, Mr. Soyer, the pantomime is over early this evening!” and looking at his watch, continued, “Why, it is only half-past eleven o’clock.” “Yes, Sir Henry; but quite late enough for children, who after this time begin to mingle gaping with laughter.” “True enough,” replied Sir Henry; “it is painful to see those dear cherubs kept at the theatre till midnight, or even later. Have you been long here?” “No,” I replied, “only a few minutes; just time enough to witness the grand finale, and to hear the screaming and laughter of the children, which to me is always very amusing.” “Very true, very true; I am of your opinion, and never tire of children’s mirth.” In a few minutes the theatre was nearly emptied of spectators, but still full of smoke. Considering myself that evening as free as a butterfly on a spring morning, though unable, like that light-hearted insect, to flit from flower to flower, I was trying to escape, with the swiftness of an eel, down the gigantic and crowded staircase, hoping to get off unobserved, as I had to start early in the morning for the country, when suddenly a friendly hand pressed me forcibly by the arm. The owner of the same cried, “Stop! stop! my friend; I have been hunting all over the theatre for you.” I at once recognised an old Devonshire acquaintance, whom I was indeed much pleased to see, having received a most kind reception from him at my last visit to that delightful county--so justly named the garden of England. “Well, my dear sir,” said he, “myself and several acquaintances of yours are here for a few days, and have ordered a supper this evening at the ‘Albion.’ We heard you were at Drury Lane, and I have come to ask you to join us.” “I must say it is very kind of you, Mr. Turner; but you must excuse me, as I am going as far as St. James’s-street, by appointment; besides, I leave for the country early to-morrow morning. But I shall be happy to spend to-morrow evening with you and your friends; therefore, I beg you will apologise for me.”