New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1921-07-02

LOT light wines. May ne keep it long,
and long and long-his fondness for the
wines of France. After that days work
which began with August, 1914, and
ended November, 1918, he has surely
earned some right to a. good, long
drink.
Equally true is the statement as to
his fondness for dancing. He loves
dancing. He loves to sit before little
marble table, slipping a glass of cassis
a 'eau, and watch les Americans dam
SAINT lie jazz.
l. "C'est drole," he remarks to himself
as he looks on, "cest drole." Then
after a while he says: "C'est meme
pouffant." Another moment of medita,
tive observation gives him his final
Judgment: EFT puts, somme toute, tres
lnteressant, avec cette pointe de bar
barsme!"
He Takes Notions
He is, also, very polite. Oh, very
polite-there's no question as to that.
Only, only-well, here l am not quite
content
For the description leaves out some
thing which goes with his politeness.
Something, just beneath it, hard as
granite, against which you skin your
nose.
1t is his sense of what is fitting.
It's this sense which caused the late
war. You see, he did not think it fit
ting that the Germans should camp in
Paris.
The argument of this nice point cost
n
million wrecked bodies, untold treasure,
four and a half years of time. But he
never let up, and at the end facts had
been held to compliance with his sense
of what is fitting. The Germans had
not camped in Paris.
But this vague historical instance is
pale compared to an occurrence that
took place wholly beneath my own eyes
two years ago in Nancy. And that's
when Bill McNutt tried to get his soup
before his hors d'oeuvres.
William Slavins McNutt, war CORE
spondent, and l were dining in one Of
Mancy's famed restaurants. We had
just returned from the front, and Bill
(this story is not about me) was hun
CRY. He was hungry, he had relaxed
his being in an expectation of tasting
to the fullest all the refined joys of
an exquisite civilization, and, having
passed already several months in
France, knew how to maneuver per-
fectly through the delicate intricacies
of French menu. So he ordered 1t
was poem to hear him order. So
intelligently, so attentively, so exhaust
lively, so wisely, missing not even the
entre-met, nor the injunction to warm
up the Burgundy-just little, you
know; the temperature of your hand.
And the waiter, discreetly touched by
this evidence of a soul kin to his own,
wrote it all down so that he would not
make any mistake.
He wrote it all down on a pad, and
then started toward the kitchens But
as he walked down the aisle of white
and crystal-shining tables he happened
to drop his eyes upon the pad in order
to refresh his memory. He stopped,
turned and stood once more at Bill
McNutt's elbow II beg your pardon"
he said, "but here on my pad have
written 'potage' and then written 'hors
doeuvres.
Refers to Pad Again
That's right" said Bill negIigently.
That's all right, Go ahead-I'm hun
CRY"
The waiter departed, but he had gone
only little way down the aisle before
he returned. II beg your pardon" he
said, "but l think there is misunder-
standing. Here on the pad as I wrote
it down, it says potage first and then,
only secondly, does it say hors
d'oeuvres 1t is my mistake, of course
Monsieur really wishes his hors
d'@uvres first, and then only his
potage."
NO." said Bill, 81 want the-what
do you call it?-the pottage first"
The waiter started away again. but
soon was back. 81 will serve monsieur
the hors d'euvres frst?" he slipped,
softly and insinuatingly
Look a-here," said Bill, beginning
TO warm up, 81 have already told you.
want my pottage first"
The waiter once more trotted-but
not beyond the third table ere he
trotted back. II will serve monsieur
the hors d'@uvres first" he said,
firmly.
"The deuce you will" roared Bill in
ironic fury-only he did not say
deuce. THE deuce you will! Who's
eating this dinner anyway, you or |?
Bring me my pottage and tout-de-
suite, tool"
Comes the Head Waiter
The waiter, altogether crushed now,
dAIcA OAS iOoh VI ouPASlHe appeal
toward the ceiling, marched away
toward the kitchens. But he did not
reach the kitchens; halfway there he
obliqued and made for the head-waiter
And in another moment the head
waiter stood at our elbow.
az understand" he said rather Sc
verely, chat monsieur demands that
his potaee be served before his hors
d'euvres."
Il want my pottage first" said Bill
McNutt
"But, of course-and monsieur will
surely understand, monsieur being a
person of intelligence and taste-this
is impossible. In France we serve the.
hors d'euvres before the potage"
81 want my pottage first" said Bill,
crossing his legs and looking the man
straight in the eye.
For years" said the head waiter,
sorrowfully, 81 have waited here and
never have ! served the potage before
the hors d'duvres. For a century
this restaurant has stood here on the
Grande Place; never once during that
century has any one been served potage
before hors d'oeuvres. For centuries
has the art of cooking, of delicate liv-
ing, been studied in France. In all
of those centuries, some of them
glorious, never, never has
Explanation Offered
81 want my pottage first" said Bill.
The head waiter gulped, held his
hand to his brow, regained strength
and the thread of his discourse and
went on.
Beneath every one of our customs