the saddle or haunch of mutton arrives, of which gentlemen who have patiently waited get satisfactory slices, and currant jelly, with cold vegetables or a heavy, flabby salad. Then come boiled fowls and tongue, or a turkey with heavy forcemeat; a slice of ham and so on, up to game, followed by hot, substantial pudding, three or four other sweets, including an iced pudding; wines in variety, more or less appropriate; to be followed by a pâté de foie gras, more salad, biscuits and cheese. Again, two ices, and liqueurs. Then an array of decanters, and the first appearance of red wine; a prodigious dessert of all things in and out of season, but particularly those which are out of season, as being the more costly. General circulation of waiters, handing each dish in turn to everybody, under a running fire of negatives, a ceremonial of ten or fifteen minutes' duration, to say the least. Circulation of decanters; general rustle of silks, disappearance of the ladies; and first change of seat, precisely two hours and a half after originally taking it. It may be hoped that a charming companion on either side has beguiled and shortened a term which otherwise must have been felt a little long. Now the general closing up of men to host, and reassembling of decanters; age and qualities of wine, recommendation of vintages. Coffee which is neither black nor hot. Joining the ladies; service of gunpowder tea, fatal to the coming night's rest if taken in a moment of forgetfulness; and carriages announced.
Admitted that such an exhibition is impossible now in any reasonable English circle, it nevertheless corresponds very closely in style with that of the public dinner; a state of things without excuse. And the large private dinner is still generally too long, the menu too pretentious. Let me, however, be permitted to record, equally in proof of growing taste and as grateful personal duty, how many admirable exceptions to the prevailing custom are now afforded. Then, of course, it must be understood that, while the dinner for six or eight persons is designed as an harmonious whole of few, well-chosen dishes, all of which are intended to be eaten in their order, the menu of the larger party must offer various dishes for choice to meet the differing tastes of more numerous guests, and it must therefore be larger. Let us see how this is to be met. First, the soups: it is the custom to offer a consommé, which ought to be perfect in clearness, color, and savor, and to be served perfectly hot; containing vegetables, etc., variously treated—doubtless the best commencement, as it is the keynote, of the dinner; revealing also, as it does nine times out of ten, the caliber of the cook to whose talent the guest is intrusted. But there is mostly an alternative of "white soup," and this is almost always a mistake. Many persons refuse it, and they are right, containing, as it generally does, a considerable proportion of cream—an injudicious beginning, when there is much variety to follow; excellent sometimes as one of three or four dishes, but dangerous otherwise to the guest who has not an exceptionally powerful digestion. But, sup-
