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- 2026-01-30T20:48:26.985Z
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- The two breasts were gouged ruthlessly out, exposing the bare bones,
embellished with the untouched pinions and legs.
‘Yes, who knows!’ said my guide, ‘His Royal Highness the Prince Regent
might have eaten of that identical pheasant.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ murmured I, ‘he is said to be uncommonly fond of the
breast. But where is Napoleon’s head in a charger? I should fancy _that_
ought to have been the principal dish.’
‘You are merry. Sir, even Cossacks are charitable here in Guildhall.
Look! the famous Platoff, the Hetman himself--(he was here last night
with the rest)--no doubt he thrust a lance into yon fat pork-pie there.
Look! the old shirtless man has it now. How he licks his chops over it,
little thinking of or thanking the good, kind Cossack that left it him!
Ah! another--a stouter has grabbed it. It falls; bless my soul!--the
dish is quite empty--only a bit of the hacked crust.’
‘The Cossacks, my friend, are said to be immoderately fond of fat,’
observed I. ‘The Hetman was hardly so charitable as you thought.’
‘A noble charity, upon the whole, for all that. See, even Gog and Magog
yonder, at the other end of the hall, fairly laugh out their delight at
the scene.’
‘But don’t you think, though,’ hinted I, ‘that the sculptor, whoever he
was, carved the laugh too much into a grin--a sort of sardonical grin?’
‘Well, that’s as you take it, sir. But see--now I’d wager a guinea the
Lord Mayor’s lady dipped her golden spoon into yonder golden-hued jelly.
See, the jelly-eyed old body has slipped it, in one broad gulp, down his
throat.’
‘Peace to that jelly!’ breathed I.
‘What a generous, noble, magnanimous charity this is! unheard of in any
country but England, which feeds her very beggars with golden-hued
jellies.’
‘But not three times every day, my friend. And do you really think that
jellies are the best sort of relief you can furnish to beggars? Would
not plain beef and bread, with something to do, and be paid for, be
better?’
‘But plain beef and bread were not eaten here. Emperors, and prince
regents, and kings, and field-marshals don’t often dine on plain beef
and bread. So the leavings are according. Tell me, can you expect that
the crumbs of kings can be like the crumbs of squirrels?’
‘_You!_ I mean _you!_ stand aside, or else be served and away! Here,
take this pasty, and be thankful that you taste of the same dish with
Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire. Graceless ragamuffin, do you hear?’
These words were bellowed at me through the din by a red-gowned official
nigh the board.
‘Surely he does not mean _me_,’ said I to my guide; ‘he has not
confounded _me_ with the rest.’
‘One is known by the company he keeps,’ smiled my guide. ‘See! not only
stands your hat awry and bunged on your head, but your coat is fouled
and torn. Nay,’ he cried to the red-gown, ‘this is an unfortunate
friend; a simple spectator, I assure you.’
‘Ah! is that you, old lad!’ responded the red-gown, in familiar
recognition of my guide--a personal friend as it seemed; ‘well, convey
your friend out forthwith. Mind the grand crash; it will soon be coming;
hark! now! away with him!’
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