my own eyes, though I can believe my tongue." (We looked at each other.) "'That you shall do in a minute,' says he; so he whipped one of them out with a landing net; and when I stuck my knife into him, the pickle ran out of his body, like wine out of a claret bottle, and I ate at least two pounds of the rascal, while he flapped his tail in my face. I never tasted such salmon as that. Worth your while to go to Scotland, if it's only for the sake of eating live pickled salmon. I'll give you a letter, any of you, to
and then you may convince yourselves. 'lake my friend. He'll be d——d glad to see you; my word for it, if once you eat salmon that way, you will never eat it any other."
We all said we thought that very likely. The champaigne corks flew as fast and as loud as his shells at Acre; but we were particularly reserved, depending entirely on his tongue for our amusement; and, finding the breeze of conversation beginning to freshen, I artfully turned the subject to Egypt, by asking
