It would be useless to try to tell you all
the various dishes. A boiled turkey was before Mrs. Holland, and a
roasted goose before Mr. Holland; and in the intermediate spaces,
cutlets, fricassees, ragouts, tongue, chicken-pies, and many things
whose names I did not know, and on a side-table a boiled round of beef
as large as the dome of St. Peter's. The pastry of the chicken-pie
was of very elaborate sculpture. It was laid in a silver plate, an oak
vine being precisely cut all round, and flowers and fruits moulded on
the top. It really was a shame to spoil it. All these were then swept
off in a very noiseless manner. Grouse and pheasants are always served
with the sweets in England, and they appeared at either end of the
table. There were napkins under the finger-bowls, upon each of which a
castle or palace was traced in indelible ink, and its name written
beneath. The wines were port, sherry, madeira, claret, hock, and
champagne. I refused the five first, but the champagne was poured into
my glass without any question. So now you have the material elements
of the dinner-party. Perhaps I cannot give the spiritual so well. Mr.
Littledale was a gentleman with a face in full bloom, a very white
cravat coming out even with his chin; and within it he bridled with
the unmistakable English sense of superiority to the rest of mankind.
He is a specimen of the independent, rich country gentleman of
England. His conservatories were the best in the world, .
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241