le flesh-pot to wane most wretchedly.

To be jocose is not the sole requisite of him who would fain be a universal
diner-out. Lively with the light--airy with the sparkling--brilliant with
the blithe, he must also be grave with the serious--heavy with the
profound--solemn with the stupid. He must be able to snivel with the
sentimental--to condole with the afflicted--to prove with the practical--to
be a theorist with the speculative.

To be jocose is his most valuable acquisition. As there is a tradition that
birds may be caught by sprinkling salt upon their tails, so the best and
the most numerous dinners are secured by a judicious management of Attic
salt.

I fear me that the works of Josephus, and of his imitators--of that Joseph
and his brethren, I mean, whom a friend of mine calls "_The_ Miller and his
men"--I fear me, I say, that these are well-nigh exhausted. Yet I have
known very ancient jokes turned with advantage, so as to look almost equal
to new. But this requires long practice, ere the final skill be attained.

Etherege, Sedley, Wycherley, and Vanbrugh are very little read, and were
pretty fellows in their day; I think they may be safely consulted, and
rendered available. But, have a care. Be sure you mingle some of your own
dulness with their brighter matter, or you will overshoot the mark. You
will be too witty--a fatal error. True wits eat no dinners, save of their
own providing; and, depend upon it, it is not their wit that will
now-a-days get them their dinner. True wits are feared, not fed.

When you tell an anecdote, never ascribe it to a man well known. The time
is gone by for dwelling upon--"Dean Swift said"--"Quin, the actor,
remarked"--"The facetious Foote was once"--"That reminds me of what
Sheridan"--"Ha! ha! Sydney Smith was dining the other day with"--and the
like. Your ha! ha!--especially should it precede the name of Sam
Rogers--would inevitably cost you a hecatomb of dinners. It would be
changed into oh! oh! too surely, and too soon. _Verbum sat_.

I would have you be careful to _sort_ your pleasantries. Your soup jokes
(never hazard that one about Marshal _Turenne_, it is really _too_
ancient,) your fish, your flesh, your fowl jests--your side-shakers for the
side dishes--your puns for the pastry--your after-dinner excruciators.

Sometimes, from negligence (but be not negligent) or ill-luck, which is
unavoidable, and attends the best directed efforts, you sit down to table
with your