19/57 'Son,' says I, 'your eyesight is bad. That's a British-American goose. Chop off about three feet of neck and a couple of fathom of hind legs and pick and clean what's left, and I shouldn't wonder if 'twould make a good dinner for a mutual friend of ours--good _enough_, anyhow.' Well, sir! that ex-consul set plump down in the mud and laughed and laughed. Ho, ho! Oh, dear me!" "Did you send it to the Englishman ?" asked Sylvester. And, after a good while and in a roundabout way, I heard that the whole dinner party vowed 'twas the best wild goose they ever ate. |