MANKIND, says a ese 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 or biting it from the living animal, just as they do in Abyssinia to this day. This period is not obscurely hi by their great fucius in the sed chapter of his Muations, where he designates a kind of golden age by the term Cho-fang, literally the Cooks holiday. The manuscript goes on to say, that the art of roasting, or rather broiling (which I take to be the elder brother) was actally discovered in the manner following. The swine-herd, Ho-ti, having go into the woods one m, as his manner was, to collect mast 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 only are, let some sparks escape into a bundle of straw, which kindling quickly, spread the flagration over every part of their poor mansion, till it was reduced to ashes. Together with the cottage (a sorry antediluvian make-shift of a building, you may think it), what was of much more importance, a fiter of new-farrowed pigs, han nine in number, perished. a pigs have beeeemed a luxury all over the east from the remotest periods that we read of. Bo-bo was imost sternation, as you may think, not so much for the sake of the te, which his father and he could easily build up again with a few dry branches, and the labour of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss of the pigs. 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 odour assailed his nostrils, unlike any st which he had before experienced. What could it proceed from ? -- not from the burnt cottage -- he had smelt that smell before -- ihis was by no means the first act of the kind which had occurred through the negligence of this unlucky young fire-brand. Much less did it resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory moistening at the same time overflowed his her lip. He knew not what to think. He 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 crums of the scorched skin had e away with his fingers, and for the first time in his life (in the worlds life indeed, for before him no man had known it) he tasted -- crag! Again he felt and fumbled at the pig. It did not burn him so muow, still he licked his fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at length broke into his slow uanding, 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 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 affairs stood, began to rain blows upon the young rogues shoulders, as thick as hail-stones, which Bo-bo heeded not any more than if they had been flies. The tig pleasure, which he experienced in his lions, had rendered him quite callous to any inveniences he might feel in those remote quarters. His father might lay on but he could not beat him from his pig, till he had fairly made an end of it, when, being a little more sensible of his situation, something like the following dialogue ensued.
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