The Fireplace Was A Rough Piece Of Art, Upon Which We Prided Ourselves Extremely.

A party of eight persons could have sat before it with comfort.

Many a roaring fire has blazed up that rude chimney; and dinner being over, the little round table before the hearth has steamed forth a fragrant attraction, when the nightly bowl of mulled port has taken its accustomed stand. I have spent many happy hours in this said spot; the evenings were of a decidedly social character. The day's hunting over, it was a delightful hour at about seven P.M.--dinner just concluded, the chairs brought before the fire, cigars and the said mulled port. Eight o'clock was the hour for bed, and five in the morning to rise, at which time a cup of hot tea, and a slice of toast and anchovy paste were always ready before the start. The great man of our establishment was the cook.

This knight of the gridiron was a famous fellow, and could perform wonders; of stoical countenance, he was never seen to smile. His whole thoughts were concentrated in the mysteries of gravies, and the magic transformation of one animal into another by the art of cookery; in this he excelled to a marvellous degree. The farce of ordering dinner was always absurd. It was something in this style: 'Cook!' (Cook answers) 'Coming, sar!' (enter cook): ' Now, cook, you make a good dinner; do you hear?' Cook: `Yes, sar; master tell, I make.'--`Well, mulligatawny soup.' 'Yes, sar.'--'Calves' head with tongue and brain sauce.' 'Yes, sar.'--' Gravy omelette.' 'Yes, sar.'--'Mutton chops.' 'Yes, sar.'--'Fowl cotelets.' `Yes, sar.'--'Beefsteaks.' 'Yes, sar.'--'Marrow- bones.' 'Yes, sar.'--'Rissoles.' 'Yes, sar.' All these various dishes he literally imitated uncommonly well, the different portions of an elk being their only foundation.

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