Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1878-05-11

over MS kuees, Wnile we three Frenchmen
tucked ours under our chins, Frenchwise
noticed that John Brokenshire had made
no remark about Noemie'S husband and she
had done no more than question him With
silent interrogation of her blue eyes. She knew
his ways, and that there was nothing to be got
out of him by pressing. II he had anything to
say he would divuge 1t all in due time. For
the present he was absorbed in his soup, aud
we in ours. 1t was the richest beef BROTH
favored with leeks and the spoons seemed to
dip into it lovingly OF their own accord. Only
excited about their presents, and grudging
every moment that delayed them from going
back to their play with these tokens of John
Br0kenShire'S frie nGShp.
So this dinner of ours proceeded. And all .
my friends, how wish l had the pen of those
eminent gastronomiSts. NM. Erckmann- Cha
TRAN, to describe to you what effect that sue
None other but the chroniclers of so many
braWny feasts in the hard-eating country round
Phalsburg could do Justice to the splendid
figure which the roast goose cut i'm his DISH
stuffed as he was with cheStnutS and truffleS,
and glistening with the sheenest gravy A
ring Of wel-browned sausages surrounded
him. His flesh was so plump that the knife
sliced deep into it, and the mouthfuls which
you ate with the apple sauce seemed to melt on
the tongue. Nor must it be forgotten that we
yellow ale of England sparkled In our glasses
with its white wig of froth, and our own red
vim de Grave, SO petulant and mirth-compell
and Barbelard drank a bottle apiece, and then
polished off third between them Their wives
gnaWed the drumsticks, which they held in
to show they are enjoying themselves; and
buxOm Madame Grattelot said all this re-
minded her of AlSace. John Brokenshire stuck
to his beer, and made havoc among the saus-
ages. At last we had enough of it, not that we
were tired in mind, but because physical Ma
ture said "hold!' No6mie helped to clear away
the plates, and the servant wench went out to
1t was then l uncorked the champagne bot
ties and filled the glasses for a toast to our
hostess: We always began with that, and fol
long glasses of the old fashion that show off
the bubbles better than the modern top heavy
bowls; AT this moment the maid marched in
with the pudding, which she held at arms
length, laughing and shutting her eyes. She
had set fire to il In the kitchen, and the flames
ieaplng up in f3rked tongues of blue, red, and
made it crackle. The children clapped their
hands, and Barbelard, exhilarated by what he
had drunk, shou ed :" ViUe An0teterre!"
There never was such joyous evening.
John BrOkenshile, however, held up finger
to en- Join silence
May open my parcel nowe' asked No.
em ht,, t tlnmlSdy, bat with Womans curiosity
Not yet my dear-one moment" said John
Brokenshire; and he looked across the table
to me. Poet, what did you say about having
some verses suitable to tailor! Mind you,
it's a tilor whom wish to Please and honor
II have the verses here, said |. " | keep a
stock OF them ready, in case of getting sudden
OIdtrS."
"A g cd plan," said our commercial friend.
Sometimes inspiration d"eSn' C me when
waited, explained, smoothing out my verses
on the tabecloth. You may be asked to
rhyme to ID acking when your thoughts are
running on archaeological WHAT'S your
tailOr'S name?'
"Jake.s, an Eng;ishman; but he lives in
France. Fill up that nam in your blanks If
it will sean. If not, contrive to make it sean
1T will Scan," said |, drawing out a pencil
well then, read on begged John Broken
shire This is no common matter, and We'll
was struck by John Brokenshire's tone
one of q eater gravity than the circumstances
seemed to call for. Reading aloud is not my
verses to NOemie, who had a sweet musical
voice, well suited to bring out the beauties of
poetry But she was laboring under the emo
terry, and was not in the mood for anything i'm
the nature of a public performance So did
the reading myself in my best company sing
ar, a t Gers is as b rsad n need RS
kenshire has since translated it for me into
his own tongue and given it a title. dedicate
it with affection and respect to the noble
hearted clOthler whose wares it celebrates:
PAYMENT IN RHYME.
On a Summers morning early, when the grass
with dew was p arly,
called upon farmer who was feeding little
He ceased not from his labor, but he said, Good
My breekS are worth guinea and they cost me
twelve and SIX
And the mernng sun rose higher, and there came
And he asked The stalwart farmer for the prices
1t was New hay four eleven, and the last years
And his breeks were worth guinea, but had cost
him twelve and six.
Then builder, as appointed, came to speak of
And an appie-iOft of timber, and eattle-shed of
When the notes were duly posted, then again the
~ farmer boasted
That his breeks were worth a guinea, and had
cost him twelve and six.
When the clouds at noon grew thinner, then we
And the farmers bu1om daughter did glass of
And her father, waxing wordy, said his legs were
And his 6reeEs Were Worth guinea, but had cost
TO the sf thp pond then we sauntered where often
When xheat,s s IN bloom the tench will RISE al
And heC ss Sa g Ss the little silver
And bis breeks were worth guinea, but had cost
When the sun had finished setting, and the spouse
He took pair 81 candles and put matches to their
And the Swallows on the skylight were remarking
in the twilight,
That his breeks were worth guinea, and had
cost him twelve and six.
And lit cigaritO, for no fair one puts veto
On the act. since my affections on myself alone l
fix:
And as home slowly wandered. enviously pom
dered,
Would my breeks were worth guinea. and had
cost but twelve and six.
In my sleepa vision hailed me- and at first my
courage failed me:
But he smiled, and then knew it was no courier
of Old Nick'S
lin the ghost of William Jaker, England's ia
nous breecheS-maker,
And my wares are worth guinea, but shall cost
you twelve and six
| ! finished reading, and gaZed at my plate as
authors do when they have been airing thei
| talents in the family circle, and know that the
| applause will exceed their dues.
"BravO!' cried the whole table, children in
| clud ed and there was a chorus Of compli-
| ments from all save GrattlelOt, who deplOred
| that had abandoned the safe path of six foot
lyrics.
"If you write such long verses as those, you
might just as well be doing prose-" said he
| SentenliOusly.
"Hushr' exclaimed John Brokenshire
Hand over the paper to me, Poet. You'll be
| glad to give it gratis Though it will be paid
| for, don't fear*) when you learn that William
| Jakef is man who makes breecheS for the
| President of the Republics favOrite valet"
| miringly.
"An old soldier-I knew him." chimed in
Barbelard. He was one of those who