When I came in I tried in vain to make the usual compliments. No one listened, and for that reason no one replied to me. The subject in discussion was at once submitted to me. I made up my mind at once, went to the kitchen, found a kettle large enough to boil the whole fish, and did so. There was a procession composed of the master, mistress, servants, and company, but they all approved of what I did. With the fish we boiled bulbous root and other vegetables. [Footnote: From the above it is very clear that Brillat Savarin made what the late D. Webster called a "chowder."] When the fish was cooked we sat down at the table, our ideas being somewhat sharpened by the delay, and sought anxiously for the time, of which Homer speaks, when abundance expells hunger. [The translator here omits a very excellent recipe for a fish-chowder. Everybody knows it.] VI. PHEASANTS. None but adepts know what a pheasant is. They only can appreciate it. Everything has its apogee of excellence, some of which, like capers, asparagus, partridges, callow-birds, etc., are eatable only when they are young. Others are edible only when they obtain the perfection of their existence, such as melons and fruits, and the majority of the beasts which furnish us with animal food. Others are not good until decomposition begins, such as the snipe and pheasant. When the pheasant is eaten only three days after its death, it has no peculiarity; it has not the flavor of a pullet, nor the perfume of a quail. It is, however, a highly flavored dish, about half way between chicken and venison. It is especially good when the pheasant begins to be decomposed-- an aroma and exciting oil is then produced, like coffee, only produced by torrefaction. This becomes evident by a slight smell and change of color. Persons possessed, however, of the instincts of gourmandise see it at once, just as a good cook knows whether he should take his bird from the spit or give it a turn or two more. When the pheasant is in that condition it should he plucked, and not before. The bird should then he stuffed, and in the following manner: Take two snipe and draw them so as to put the birds on one plate, and the livers, etc., on another. Take the flesh and mingle it with beef, lard and herbes fines, adding also salt and truffles enough to fill the stomach of the pheasant. Cut a slice of bread larger, considerably, than the pheasant, and cover it with the liver, etc., and a few truffles. An anchovy and a little fresh butter will do no harm. Put the pheasant on this preparation, and when it is boiled surround it with Florida oranges. Do not be uneasy about your dinner. Drink burgundy after this dish, for long experience has taught me that it is the proper wine. A pheasant served in this way is a fit dish for angels, if they visited the world as they did in Lot's day.