this and that gory joint. We were fearful of being
late, of a famine induced by speedier and more
executant jaws; but we did not dine. It was
an animal business, and, so far, sufficed for its
cud; and we lay out at full length afterwards,
painfully gorged, and slumbered the post-prandial
nap: but we did not dine. It was an indecent
aldermanic process. There were no fond
memories associated with it, no pleasing anticipations,
no exquisite surprises, such as wait on
the progress of the modern banquet. No!
— thank Heaven for it!— we do not eat now,
but we dine: and like to dine, too, as well as
the lexicographer.

It is the fashion to inveigh against the more
solemn ceremonial feasts, those sumptuous but
decently conducted orgies to which our friends
bid us periodically. We array ourselves for
this funeral banqueting with a sober resignation,
and our women, specially, rank it among
those reformatory duties which the Draconian
laws of their society impose. It is usual for the
lady of the mansion to break in upon the quiet
retreat of the working, ratepaying, householding,
feeding, domestic Clothing-Colonel, who sits
in the study and is called husband, with the
strongest expression of repugnance upon her
countenance, holding a little billet folded like a
Venetian blind. "There!" she will exclaim,
" another of those odious Jenkinswater dinners!
So grim, and stiff, and formal; so stupid and
spun out!" Tor her part, she could not so much
as think of going, but does eventually think of
and go, upon reasons of state and fine diplomatic
policy, put forward by the gentle Clothing-
Colonel. Tor my part, I do not share in this
affectation of repugnance; I own to a feeling of
complacency, a subdued and mellow anticipation,
when I see that the honour of Mr. Singleman's
society is desired at dinner that day fortnight,
at half-past eight o'clock. I have no
objection to this playing of Heliogabalus for a
short time and at an humble distance, moderated,
of course, by the Christian precepts. I
like the state, the temporary kingship of the
thing, this banqueting in dreamland, and sumptuous
stage dinners, if I may so call them. A
not inappropriate image, for the waiters are no
more than supernumeraries proper, taken on for
the piece, who flit about in the fanciful dresses
of their order, and minister to the temporary
banqueters! We have all but a usufruct merely
in these fine things, and stand in about the
same relation to the gold and silver properties
we are permitted to finger, as Mr. Hicks, of
the Royal Victoria Theatre, does to the magnificent
Regalia he dons upon occasions of kingly
state. Nay, when, enthroned at one of his own
entertainments, this monarch calls for wine, and
quaffs a deep draught of air from a radiant paste
board goblet, I trace a fanciful analogy between
his and our proceedings; for it has been whispered
that much of this gorgeous ornamentation,
these lights and epergnes— nay, even the
clear-cut crystal which hisses and bubbles with
the tempestuous wines— make a surreptitious
entry into the house, and are borne away privily
next morning. It is abnormal, a thrusting of
prandial greatness, an edible Aladdin's Lamp
vision, where we batten in our sleep upon the
soups (white and brown), the cutlets, the cunning
entrées, the iced puddings, and wake up
over the cold simplicity, the barbarous conventionalism
of the domestic joint! It is the coming
back to the cobbler's shop in the Devil to Pay,
or le Diable à Quatre, the introduction by Duke
D'Aranza and Claude Melnotte of their respective
brides into their humble mansions. As a
whole, I should say that for weakly minds easily
thrown off their centre it is demoralising. Few
temperaments can stand these violent revulsions.

I can not bring myself to vilipend these noble
institutions. I like the stately ceremonial— not
devoid of a certain morne and melancholy
grandeur— in all its stages, which recur in a
sort of grand monotony, which the tradition of
ages has hallowed. I like these starched
auxiliaries, mercenaries of waiterdom, who hang
about the hall as videttes when you enter, faces
unfamiliar, and yet familiar, too, as whom we
have met in other halls. I like the discomforting
embarrassment of reception up-stairs; the
cordiality of the host, which I know to be overdone;
his listlessness and absence of mind when
I address him on the probability of to-morrow's
being wet, but which I can well pardon, for I
know that his heart is far away: down below,
beside inflamed cook, at the furnace mouth
where the flames are raging: a chasing of the
deer— that is, quaking for his venison.

It was before remarked that in the primitive
hunting days no one dined, but every one ate.
There lurks here a nice distinction. That pleasure
of banqueting is not so wholly earthy as
would be supposed. It lies more in the intellectuals,
and hath almost a fine spiritual sense.
When I sit at the feasts of the heroes, it is not
in the low carnal sense that I reckon on being
entertained (of course it would be affectation to
pretend a full superiority to this weakness), a
finer and more exalted process is in progress.
With me the brain works in harmonious tides.
This I take to be the true exposition of that
complex notion, dining, as distinguished from
eating; in this lies the chief triumph of civilisation.
That exquisite sense of protraction;
that linked sweetness long drawn out;
the making of the prandial journey by stages,
resting a span, and then taking on fresh horses;
in short, a decent, orderly march, marked by
a sweet complacency and tranquil acceptance
of the goods the gods provide,— these are the
characteristics of the newer moral order, as distinguished
from the wild impatience of unregulated
man. See, too, the virtues— prudence,
temperance, knowledge, fortitude— that are
brought into healthy play; a thoughtful speculation
as to what new delights are being borne
round, and a calm and regulated resignation to
the will of Providence, as accident has turned a
longed-for dainty out of its course, or made it
pass by hurriedly, never to return, or by some
awkward little fatality has well-nigh snatched
it from our lips. Was it not at the board of