This bird, called by the ancients the “Hen of Numidia,” comes originally from many burning regions of Africa. In Greece, and especially in Rome, vanity alone gave it a price which was willingly granted, more on account of its scarcity than for its taste.[XVII-98] The Guinea hen appeared at great banquets, when the Amphytrion was more anxious to show his opulence than to demonstrate the delicacy of his dishes. Martial,[XVII-99] and Pliny,[XVII-100] the naturalist, raised great objections against this ostentatious and useless rarity. _Guinea Hen à la Numide._--Cook it; then put it in a saucepan with some honey and garum; make several incisions in the bird; baste it with its own gravy, and sprinkle with pepper previously to its being served.[XVII-101] THE TURKEY HEN. “There must be two to eat a truffled turkey,” said a gastronomist of the 18th century, to one of his friends--a noted _gourmand_--who had just come to pay him a visit. “Two!” replied the visitor, with a smile of sensuality. “Yes, two,” answered the first; “I never do otherwise: for instance, I have a turkey to-day, and of course we must be two.” The friend, looking earnestly at the other, said: “You, and who else?” “Why,” answered the gastronomist, “I and the turkey.” In Greece, more than one stomach would have been capable of challenging nobly the voracity of this modern polyphagus: witness the insatiable greediness of the well-known glutton who complained that nature ought to have given him a neck as long as the stork, that he might enjoy for a longer period his eating and drinking.[XVII-102] But for a long time the Greeks were quite ignorant of the culinary value of the turkey; it was looked upon as an uncommon curiosity, and not condemned to the spit. Sophocles, the first who spoke of it, pretended that those marvellous birds came purposely from some distant climate beyond the Indies, to bewail the death of Meleager, who took possession of the throne of Macedonia (279 years B.C.), and who was soon driven from it.[XVII-103] This Prince, it is reported, carried them away from barbarous regions, that they might enjoy the charms of Greek civilization; and hence could there be anything more natural than to find those compassionate volatiles shedding tears for their benefactor, in one of Sophocles’ tragedies? They have been called since, Meleagrides, and this name perpetuated “misfortune, favour, and gratitude.” Aristotle hardly supplies us with any details upon turkey hens: he merely says that their eggs are distinguished by little specks from those of the common hens, which are white;[XVII-104] but Clytus of Miletus, his disciple, gives an exact description of them, by which no mistake can be made.[XVII-105]