only waiting for a chance to overcharge me or short-change me, or give
me bad money, or something. If every other form of provender had
failed them the populace of Paris could have subsisted very
comfortably for several days on the lobsters I refused to buy in the
course of the spring and summer of last year. I'm sure of it.

And when I had firmly, emphatically, yea, ofttimes passionately
declined the proffered lobster, he, having with difficulty mastered
his chagrin, would seek to direct my attention to the salmon, his
motive for this change in tactics being that salmon, though apparently
plentiful, was generally the second most expensive item upon the
regular menu. Salmon as served in Paris wears a different aspect from
the one commonly worn by it when it appears upon the table here.

Over there they cut the fish through amidships, in cross-sections,
and, removing the segment of spinal column, spread the portion flat
upon a plate and serve it thus; the result greatly resembling a pair
of miniature pink horse collars. A man who knew not the salmon in his
native state, or ordering salmon in France, would get the idea that
the salmon was bowlegged and that the breast had been sold to some one
else, leaving only the hind quarters for him.

Harking back to lobsters, I am reminded of a tragedy to which I was an
eyewitness. Nearly every night for a week or more two of us dined at
the same restaurant on the Rue de Rivoli. On the occasion of our first
appearance here we were confronted as we entered by a large table
bearing all manner of special delicacies and cold dishes. Right in the
middle of the array was one of the largest lobsters I ever saw,
reposing on a couch of water cress and seaweed, arranged upon a
serviette. He made an impressive sight as he lay there prone upon his