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But Gode had a choice dish, un petit morceau, in reserve, which he brought forth with a triumphant flourish. "Voici, messieurs?" cried he, setting it before us. "What is it, Gode?" "Une fricassee, monsieur." "Of what?" "Les frog; what de Yankee call boo-frog!" "A fricassee of bull-frogs!" "Oui, oui, mon maitre. Voulez vous?" "No, thank you!" "I will trouble you, Monsieur Gode," said Seguin.
No nightingales; and Fred was indulging in reminiscences of bull-frogs; the two ladies were rapturous on the effect of the moonbeams in the ripple of the waters, and the soft furry white mist rising over the meadows. Ulick shivered, and leant over the fire to breathe a drier air, bantering the ladies for their admiration, and declaring that Mrs.
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