"Sarvants keep goin' round and round in a ring, slow, but sartain, and
for ever, like the arms of a great big windmill, shovin' dish after
dish, in dum show, afore your nose, for you to see how you like the
flavour; when your glass is empty it's filled; when your eyes is off
your plate, it's off too, afore you can say Nick Biddle.

"Folks speak low here; steam is valuable, and noise onpolite. They call
it a "_subdued tone_." Poor tame things, they are subdued, that's a
fact; slaves to an arbitrary tyrannical fashion that don't leave 'em no
free will at all. You don't often speak across a table any more nor you
do across a street, but p'raps Mr. Somebody of West Eend of town, will
say to a Mr. Nobody from West Eend of America: 'Niagara is noble.'
Mr. Nobody will say, 'Guess it is, it got its patent afore the "Norman
_Conquest_," I reckon, and afore the "_subdued_ tone" come in fashion.'
Then Mr. Somebody will look like an oracle, and say, 'Great rivers and
great trees in America. You speak good English.' And then he will seem
surprised, but not say it, only you can read the words on his face,
'Upon my soul, you are a'most as white as us.'

"Dinner is over. It's time for ladies to cut stick. Aunt Goosey looks
at the next oldest goosey, and ducks her head, as if she was a goin'
through a gate, and then they all come to their feet, and the goslins
come to their feet, and they all toddle off to the drawin' room
together.

"The decanters now take the "grand tour" of the table, and, like most
travellers, go out with full pockets, and return with empty ones. Talk
has a pair of stays here, and is laced up tight and stiff. Larnin' is
pedantic; politics is onsafe; religion ain't fashionable. You must tread
on neutral ground. Well, neutral ground gets so trampled down by both
sides, and so plundered by all, there ain't any thing fresh or good
grows on it, and it has no cover for game nother.

"Housundever, the ground is tried, it's well beat, but nothin' is put
up, and you get back to where you started. Uncle Gander looks at next
oldest gander hard, bobs his head, and lifts one leg, all ready for a
go, and says, 'Will you take any more wine?' 'No, sais he, 'but I take
the hint, let's jine the ladies.'

"Well, when the whole flock is gathered in the goose pastur, the
drawin'-room, other little flocks come troopin' in, and stand, or walk,
or down on chairs; and them that know each other talk, and them that
don't twirl their thu