"No jelly, Colonel?" said Fitz, with an eye on the sideboard.

"Jelly? No, suh; not a suspicion of it. A pinch of salt, a dust
ofcayenne, then shut yo' eyes and mouth, and don't open them 'cept for
a drop of good red wine. It is the salt marsh in the early mornin'
that you are tastin', suh,--not molasses candy. You Nawtherners don't
really treat a canvasback with any degree of respect. You ought never
to come into his presence when he lies in state without takin' off yo'
hats. That may be one reason why he skips over the Nawthern States
when he takes his annual fall outin'." And he laughed heartily.

"But you use it on venison?" argued Fitz.

"Venison is diff'ent, suh. That game lives on moose buds, the soft
inner bark of the sugar maple, and the tufts of sweet grass. There is
a propriety and justice in his endin' his days smothered in sweets; but
the wild duck, suh, is bawn of the salt ice, braves the storm, and
lives a life of peyil and hardship. You don't degrade a' oyster, a
soft shell crab, or a clam with confectionery; why a canvasback duck?

"Now, Chad, serve coffee."

The colonel pushed back his chair, and opened a drawer in a table on
his right, producing three small clay pipes with reed stems and a
buckskin bag of tobacco. This he poured out on a plate, breaking the
coarser grains with the palms of his hands, and filling the pipes with
the greatest care.

Fitz watched him curiously, and when he reached for the third pipe,
said:--