'He's of the
right stripe--a fillibuster cook!' said Jeff, exultingly, as Guth gave
the coals another stir. 'This is a Cuba flounder,' interposed
Guth. 'You see, Mr. Smooth, the General is exceedingly partial to this
sort of flounder, but he doesn't understand the quality of dressing
requisite to the cooking it--he must be done with native sauce. It is
necessary he should be fried in a southern griddle, with plenty of
native sauce--an article for which this cook of ours is not
celebrated.'
"'Well, gents!' rejoined I, 'if you do brown that old fellow this
season I'll knock under. However, don't be bashful about extending
Smooth an invitation to breakfast: understand, he is rather fond of a
good fish hash, which he thinks it is the profession of your French
cook to do up.'
"'Lord bless you!' quickly interrupted Uncle Jeff, 'being a good
Down-east democrat, your wish shall be gratified.' Then in great good
nature he told me just to step along, and a little further into the
dark smoke I'd find Grandpapa Marcy and Uncle Dib, exerting their
wondrous energies over a stew they were puzzled to get to the right
substance.
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