CHAPTER IX: AS TO COOKERY AND SCULPTURE.
Robert Burns and Homer were seated at a small table in the dining-room of the house-boat, discussing everything in general and the shade of a very excellent luncheon in particular.
"We are in great luck to-day," said Burns, as he cut a ruddy duck in twain.

"This bird is done just right." "I agree with you," returned Homer, drawing his chair a trifle closer to the table.

"Compared to the one we had here last Thursday, this is a feast for the gods.

I wonder who it was that cooked this fowl originally ?" "I give it up; but I suspect it was done by some man who knew his business," said Burns, with a smack of his lips.

"It's a pity, I think, my dear Homer, that there is no means by which a cook may become immortal.