ispirited blood is most subject to fevers. I look upon a French ragout
to be as pernicious to the stomach as a glass of spirits; and when I
have seen a young lady swallow all the instigations of high soups,
seasoned sauces, and forced meats, I have wondered at the despair or
tedious sighing of her lovers.

The rules among these false delicates are to be as contradictory as they
can be to nature.

Without expecting the return of hunger, they eat for an appetite, and
prepare dishes not to allay, but to excite it.

They admit of nothing at their tables, in its natural form, or without
some disguise.

They are to eat everything before it comes in season, and to leave it
off as soon as it is good to be eaten.

They are not to approve anything that is agreeable to ordinary palates;
and nothing is to gratify their senses, but what would offend those of
their inferiors.

I remember I was last summer invited to a friend's house, who is a great
admirer of the French cookery, and (as the phrase is) eats well. At our
sitting down, I found the table covered with a great variety of unknown
dishes. I was mightily at a loss to learn what they were, and therefore
did not know where to help myself. That which stood before me, I took to
be a roasted porcupine, however did not care for asking questions; and
have since been informed, that it was only a larded turkey. I afterwards
passed my eye over several hashes, which I do not know the names of to
this day; and hearing that they were delicacies, did not think fit to
meddle with them.

Among other dainties, I saw something like a pheasant, and therefore
desired to be helped to a wing of it; but to my great surprise, my
friend told me it was a rabbit, which is a sort of meat I never cared
for. At last I discovered, with some joy, a pig at the lower end of the
table, and begged a gentleman that was near it to cut me a piece of it.
Upon which the gentleman of the house said, with great civility, "I am
sure you will like the pig, for it was whipped to death." I must
confess, I heard him with horror, and could not eat of an animal that
had died so tragical a death. I was now in great hunger and confusion,
when, methought, I smelt the agreeable savour of roast beef, but could
not tell from which dish it arose, though I did not question but it lay
disguised in one of them. Upon turning my head, I saw a noble sirloin on
the side-table smoking in the most delicious manner. I had recourse to