"Why—what has a pedant to do with fins?"
"I will tell you—(Ah, this Madeira!)—I suggested to Lord Dareville, who affects the gourmand, what a capital thing a dish all fins,—(turbot's fins)—might be made." 'Capital!' said he, in a rapture, 'dine on it with me to-morrow.' 'Volontiers!' said I:—the next day, after indulging in a pleasing reverie all the morning, as to the manner in which Dareville's cook, who is not without genius, would accomplish the grand idea, I betook myself punctually to my engagement. Would you believe it? when the cover was removed, the sacrilegious dog of an Amphitryon had put into the dish Cicero de finibis. 'There is a work all fins!' said he."
"Atrocious jest!" exclaimed Brandon, solemnly.
"Was it not? Whenever the Gastronomists set up a religious inquisition, I trust they will roast every impious rascal who treats the divine mystery with levity. Pun upon cooking, indeed! Apropos of Dareville, he is to come into the administration."
"You astonish me!" said Brandon, "I never
