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Ude was steward to the United Service Club, when he printed his "French Cook" in 1822. A very satisfactory and amusing account of this volume occurs in the "London Magazine" for January 1825.

Last came a climax-pie, contents unknown. And when that dish, fit to set before a king, was opened, the poem of our supper was complete. J. B. sailed to the Parnassus where Ude and Vattel feast, forever cooking immortal banquets in star-lighted spheres.

"Oh, Mr Slick!" said he, "there is a poor man here who richly deserves a pension both from your government and mine. He has done more to advance the culinary art than either Ude or Soyer." "Who on earth now were they?" said I. I knew well enough who they were, for when I was to England they used to brag greatly of Soyer at the Reform Club.

If we liked, we could give you a description of the fête which should make all your mouths water; but everyone cooks now, and ekes out his page by robbing Jarrin and by rifling Ude.

Coltman, who had charge of the commissary, quite naturally expected that we would depend largely on meat and had not provided a sufficiency of other food. As a result we found that after the third day rations were becoming very short. We camped that night at a well in a sandy river bottom about ten miles beyond Ude, the halfway point on the trip to Urga.

Here the cook, by his skill and attention, anticipates our wishes in the happiest selection of the best dishes and decorations. "My dear, dear Sir," exclaimed Guloseton, with a kindred glow, "I discover in you a spirit similar to my own. Let us drink long life to the venerable Ude!" "I pledge you, with all my soul," said I, filling my glass to the brim.

But when I hear of a great reformer like some of the big bugs to England, that have been grinning through horse-collars of late years, like harlequins at fairs, for the amusement and instruction of the public, I must say I do expect to see a super-superior hypocrite. Yes, I know who those great artists Soyer and Ude were, but I thought I'd draw him out.

The man, be he whom he may, who invented that plat, is second neither to Caramel nor to Ude the exquisite juicy tenderness of the meat, the preservation of the gravy, the richness of the trail by heaven! they were inimitable.

Here the cook, by his skill and attention, anticipates our wishes in the happiest selection of the best dishes and decorations. "My dear, dear Sir," exclaimed Guloseton, with a kindred glow, "I discover in you a spirit similar to my own. Let us drink long life to the venerable Ude!" "I pledge you, with all my soul," said I, filling my glass to the brim.

"What a pity," rejoined Guloseton, "that Ude, whose practical science was so perfect, should ever have written, or suffered others to write, the work published under his name; true it is that the opening part which you have so feelingly recited, is composed with a grace, a charm beyond the reach of art; but the instructions are vapid, and frequently so erroneous, as to make me suspect their authenticity; but, after all, cooking is not capable of becoming a written science it is the philosophy of practice!"