urpassed in the natural nobleness of their port and presence, would
make ridiculous faces in their well-founded anxiety lest they should
lose the time or meet with collisions. But I give them, to make such
amends as I can, plenty of room, pure air, neither hot nor cold, and
flowers in abundance. Soyer furnishes their supper; Strauss and Labitzky
play for them; and they are in a measure consoled for their privations
by seeing and hearing how uncommonly handsome they look to the end of
the evening. The only qualifications I require for admission to the
entertainment are, that the candidates shall be generally acquainted
with one another, respectable in character, tasteful in dress, happy and
kind in their looks, and well-mannered enough to show that they have
assembled to give and receive as much innocent pleasure as they can.

Good talkers and good listeners only are invited to my dinner parties. I
give one every Wednesday. It is a pleasant thing to look forward to
through the first half of the week, and to look back upon through the
last.

My cook likes it. She is the complement to the unhappy gentleman who had
'the temperament of genius without genius.' She has the genius without
the temperament.

Part of my waiters are the attendant hands formerly engaged in the
service of the White Cat. They are always gloved, and never spill nor
break anything. Others, who are dumb, carry everything needed safely to
and fro between table and kitchen.

The walls of my dining room are hung with portraits of all of my
presentable ancestors, from the time of Apelles down to that of Copley.
There are not too many of them to leave room for some Dutch paintings of
fruit, game, and green-grocers' shops, for whets to the hunger.

My responsibility, with regard to the banquet, begins and ends with
seeing, as I never fail to do, that each of the banqueters has a
generally agreeable and peculiarly congenial companion. As for myself, I
maintain that a host has his privileges; and I always place the Reverend
Sydney Smith very near my right hand. On my left, I enjoy a variety. The
Autocrat of the Breakfast Table is sometimes so kind as to grace that
corner of my dinner table. So is a gentleman who was once two years
before the mast as an uncommon sailor; and so is Sir Lainful, and a
child from a neighboring college town, whose society is better than that
of most men.

Nothing is more promotive of digestion than laughter. I regret that my
ex