Mankind, says a Chinese
manuscript, which my friend M. was obliging enough to read and explain to me,
for the first seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw, clawing it or biting it
from the living animal.
The art of roasting,
or rather broiling (which I take to be
the elder brother), was accidentally discovered in the manner following:
The swine-herd, Ho-ti, having gone out into
the wood one morning, as his manner was, to collect food for his hogs, left his
cottage in the care of his eldest son, Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy, who, being
fond of playing with fire, as younkers of his age commonly are, let some sparks
escape into a bundle of straw, which, kindling quickly, spread the
conflagration over every part of their poor mansion, till it was reduced to
ashes. Together with the cottage, what was of much more importance, a fine
litter of new-farrowed pigs, no less than nine in number, perished.
While
he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over
the smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his
nostrils unlike any scent which he had before experienced. What could it
proceed from? Not from the burnt cottage -he had smelt that smell before;
indeed this was by no means the first accident of the kind which had occurred
through the negligence of this Unlucky young firebrand-much less did it
resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory moistening at
the same time overflowed his nether lip- He knew not what to think. He next
stooped down to feel the pig, if there were any signs of life in it. He burnt
his fingers, and to cool them he applied them, in his booby fashion, to his
mouth. Some of the crumbs of the scorched skin had come away with, his fingers,
and for the first time in his life (in the world's life, indeed, for before him
no man had known it) he tasted-crackling!
Again
he felt and fumbled the pig. It did not burn him so much now, still he licked
his fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at length broke into his slow under
standing that it was the pig that smelt so, and the pig that tasted so
delicious; and, surrendering himself up to the new-born pleasure, he fell to
tearing up whole handfuls of the scorched skin with the flesh next it, and was
cramming it down his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire entered amid
the smoking rafters, armed with retributory cudgel; and, finding how matters
stood, began to rain blows upon the young rogue's shoulders as thick as
hailstones.
"You
graceless whelp! What have you got there devouring? Is it not enough that you.
have burnt me
down
three houses with your dog's tricks, and be hanged to you, but you must be eating
fire, and I know not what? What have you got there, I say?"
0 father, the pig-the
pig! Do come and taste how nice the burnt pig eats!"
Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since morning,
soon raked out another pig, and fairly
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