host makes to
receive his guests properly, as well as their gratitude for his pains so
well bestowed. What disgrace should ever be heaped upon those senseless
feeders who, with unpardonable indifference, swallow down morsels of
the rarest quality, or gulp with unrighteous carelessness some
fine-flavored and sparkling wine.

As a general maxim: Whoever shows a desire to please will be certain of
having a delicate compliment paid him by every well-bred man.

Again, when shared, the love of good living has the most marked
influence on the happiness of the conjugal state. A wedded pair with
this taste in common have once a day at least a pleasant opportunity of
meeting. For even when they sleep apart (and a great many do so), they
at least eat at the same table, they have a subject of conversation
which is ever new, they speak not only of what they are eating, but also
of what they have eaten or will eat, of dishes which are in vogue, of
novelties, etc. Everybody knows that a familiar chat is delightful.

Music, no doubt, has powerful attractions for those who are fond of it,
but one must set about it--it is an exertion. Besides, one sometimes has
a cold, the music is mislaid, the instruments are out of tune, one has a
fit of the blues, or it is a forbidden day. Whereas, in the other case,
a common want summons the spouses to table, the same inclination keeps
them there; they naturally show each other these little attentions as a
proof of their wish to oblige, and the mode of conducting their meals
has a great share in the happiness of their lives.

This observation, though new in France, has not escaped the notice of
Richardson, the English moralist. He has worked out the idea in his
novel 'Pamela,' by painting the different manner in which two married
couples finish their day. The first husband is a lord, an eldest son,
and therefore heir to all the family property; the second is his younger
brother, the husband of Pamela, who has been disinherited on account of
his marriage, and lives on half-pay in a state but little removed from
abject poverty.

The lord and lady enter their dining-room by different doors, and salute
each other coldly, though they have not met the whole day before.
Sitting down at a table which is magnificently covered, surrounded by
lackeys in brilliant liveries, they help themselves in silence, and eat
without pleasure. As soon, however, as the servants have withdrawn, a
sort of conversation is