I have been watching him, and there he is putting all sorts of outlandish things into the mate.

He's been pounding them up on stones, for all the world like an apothecary, and even if he manes no mischief, the food isn't fit to set before a dog, let alone a Christian and a gintleman like yourself.

If you give the word, sir, I knock him over with the butt end of my musket, and do the cooking for you, meself." "I'm afraid the other officers wouldn't agree to that, Tim," Charlie said, laughing.

"The food isn't so bad as it looks, and I don't think an apprenticeship among the Irish bogs is likely to have turned you out a first rate cook, Tim; except, of course, for potatoes." "Sure, now, yer honor, I can fry a rasher of bacon with any man." "Perhaps you might do that, Tim, but as we've no bacon here, that won't help us.

No, we must put up with the cook, and I don't think any of us will be the worse for the dinner." On the morning of the 29th Clive reached Conjeveram, a town of some size, forty-two miles from Madras.