The herald., 1894-12-02
De COURCY BROWNS COLLAPSE.
The Sad Experiences of a Bon
Vivant.
His Dinner at Home Was Not Good
Enough.
But After Several Horrid Adventures
He Contsnted Himself with
Similar Bill of
Fare.

am and have always been q very ex-
cellent friend Of James de Courcy Brown,
esq, whose splendid Queen Anne cot.
tage adorns Bluebottle avenue, Boyle
Heights. and many little supper have
l consumed with him. and, entire paren-
these, ct his expense, late at night in
she hospitable cabinets particuliers" of
our most renowned restaurateur. can
not deny it, am gourmet, and as to
DeCourcy. as we always call him when
he develops inclinations to act as our
host, why, he is q bon vivant in the
fullest acceptation Of the term.
Unfortunately. Mrs. Brown is not at
oil disposed TO indulge her husband in
what she vulgarly calls his "hoagish"
in stinots. and the dinners at Magnolia
villa are no more comparable to De-
Courcy's "soupers fins" at the ''Grotto"
than boiled barnyard rooster is to q
pheasant stuffed with truffles.
The fact of the matter is.that Jimmy
Brown had his first start In life as
brick up ladder to q third-story build
Ing that he first made the acquaintan
Of Biddy Jones, who later on became
Mrs. Lillian de Courcy Brown. Contracta
and Jobs. mostly the latter, had soon en-
riched my friend beyond the widest
dreams-I mean such dreams az he en-
tertained when he boarded and lodged
in tumble. down shanty on San Pedro
street for $4 per week.
With the filling OF his pocketbook and
the aggrandizement OF his bank account,
his stomach had made its power felt to
Brown. While his education had been
so neglected that writing . menu would
forever remain to him an impossible
feat. to make amends, nature had most
fortunately endowed him with an ex-
quisite and delightful perception OF
things which are good to eat, and how
to have them dished up.
1t was an everlasting matter OF regret
TO Brown that his Biddy, long since
christened Lillian, had been unable to
keep pace with him In his gsstronom
education, but that. rather to the con-
trary. che was decidedly willing to retro
grade and eat the plainest and most
vulgar dishes of q tasteless Yankee cui-
sine. Nay, not only did she prefer q
New England dinner to q "poulet Ia
Marengo," but in her ill-advised blunt
ness che did not hesitate to qualify the
appreciative delicacy of Browns palate
as the 'gluttony cravings OF q gormand-
izing sot," which che would never coun-
tensnce as long az she lived.
Who will blame our friend De Courcy,
then. if he spent considerable money on
quiet little dinners and slippers, always
strictly on the q. t., as q matter OF course
At home, the bill OF fare was an eternal
reminder OF his hod d-carrying days. Why
should he ever be reminded OF the time
when pork and beans was q godsend
Tell me that. Thers was no sense in
such devils' kitchen, whom there was
money, and plenty of 1t, for the best,
and "slathers av it,"
am very much afraid that If my
friend James de Couroy Brown ever
finds OUT who has divulged the little
episode that is to follow, that / shall
never, never again partake OF his taste-
full little gastronomic surprises at the
6 tito, but if the editor of the HERALD
will kindly keep my name an inviolabls
secret, Brown will not even surmise
who gave away the snap. The story is
too good to keep. and that is why give
it away.
Last Thursday afternoon James de
Courcey Brown drove up to Magnolia
villa, Blusbottle avenue, Boyle Heights.
where, as we have seen, he keeps his
lares and penates, as we'll az his airy
fairy Lillian, and having seen his 2:20
gelding stabbed, marched into the
house. He was. "a he ssid himself, .
leetle pecking, and shifted the atmos-
,,ka IL :r;4 Il
as usual. and probably more audibly
Lillian, who had been experimenting
dinner in the kitchen, heard the snort
and came into tho hall, ready for the
daily battle.
"What is the menoo today, dearest ?"
queried Brown.
The old song!" was the answer.
that when you present yourself before
St. Peter at the gates your first question
will be as to the menoo in Paradise.
Well, Jimmy. the glutton, here's your
uenoo: Bean SOUP, salt mackerel, Irish
sstoo and baked apples"
by st. Lawrence and his gridiron |"
luoth James, turning two shades
Tedder at the same time, and holding
on to the bannister of the stairs, "by
g st. Anthony and his fat pig may
never eat another morsel if l swallow
your no count salt mackerel and your
blamed stoo-Irish or no Irish. That's
fat. There is no sense in making me
eat yer hash house grub, and me rich
enough to afford turkey four times q
day. Irish stew! Bah !"
"Well, then, you gormandizing glut.
ton. 60 down town and spend your sub
stance with those parasites that call
themselves your friends and eat you out
of house and home, and bother me no
longer. Yer stomach will be yer death
yet"
James had slowly Withdrawn while
his wife was talking until be reached his
own room, and all the answer Lillian
got was deafening slam of the door,
after which she retired to the kitchen to
even things with the cook. by giving
her true history OF James gluttony
and hoggishness for the thouaandth
time.
A letter lay upon Browns table. He
tore open the envelope and read as fol-
lows:
DEAR Mr.. DE CoURcY Brown: The
pleasure OF your company is requested
tonight at o'clock at our house. We
have splendid Lake Tahoe trout. .
piece OF V0niHnn oud turkav han that