modification from national
character. An Englishman, for instance, is said to work best after his
meal, and accordingly his dinner makes its appearance sometimes as early
as noon, but never later than one; while a Scotchman, who is fit for
anything when half-starved, is very properly kept without solid food
till two o'clock. As for the smaller gentry, who scorn to dine at
workmen's hours, and yet do not pretend to the abnegation of the great,
they may follow their own fancy without doing any harm to others; but
the case is different as regards the hours assigned to _dinner-parties_,
for these affect the health and comfort of the whole body of the gentry
together.

We are no enemy to dinner-parties; on the contrary, we think we have not
enough of them, and we never shall have enough, till some change takes
place in their constitution. We are a small gentleman ourselves, who
dine at the modest hour of four, and what is the use to us of a six or
seven o'clock invitation? We accept it, of course, being socially
disposed, and being, moreover, philosopher enough to see that such
meetings are good for men in society: but so far as the meal itself
goes, it is to us either useless or disagreeable. If we have dined
already, we do not want another dinner; and if we have not dined, our
appetite is lost from sheer want. It is vain to say, Let us all dine
habitually at six--seven--eight o'clock. Few of us will--few of us
can--none of us ought. Nature demands a solid meal at a much earlier
hour; and true refinement suggests that the object of the evening
reunion should not be the satisfaction of the day's hunger. Only half of
this fact is seen by the classes who give the law to fashion, and that
half consists of the grosser and coarser necessity. They have already,
more especially at their country seats, taken to the tiffin of the East,
and at a reasonable hour make a regular dinner of hot meats, and all the
usual accessories, under the name of lunch. So complete is this meal,
that the ladies, led away no doubt by association, meet some hours
afterwards in mysterious conclave, to drink what our ancestors called 'a
dish of tea;' and having thus diluted the juices of their stomachs for
the reception of another supply of heavy food, they descend to dinner!

The evening dinner is, therefore, a mere show-dinner, or something
worse. But it is still more objectionable on the score of taste than on
the score of health. We find no fault with