rt of the company which
sits down to the table d'hote. There are ten people besides ourselves,
and not a commonplace or colorless character among them. My left-hand
neighbor is a somewhat slangy young gentleman in a suit of chequered
clothes, who carves the meats, being at the head of the table; and
my happy propinquity secures me the honor of selection by the young
gentleman as the recipient of his observations: a toughish round of
beef which he is called upon to carve evokes from him an aside to the
effect that it is "rather a dose." The foot of the table is held by an
old gentleman in a black stock, with a tuft of wiry hair on the front
part of his head, and none whatever on any other part, who carves
a fowl, and in asking the diners which part they severally prefer
accompanies the question with a brisk sharpening of his knife on his
fork, but without making the least noise in doing it. My chequered
neighbor having advertised the toughness of the beef, everybody
murmurs a purpose of indulging in fowl, at which my neighbor observes
aside to me that he is "rather jolly glad," and the butler takes the
beef away. The dish next set before him proving a matter of spoons
merely, his relief at not being obliged to carve finds vent in a
whispered "Hooray!" for my exclusive amusement. One unfortunate
individual has accepted a helping of beef, however--a bald-headed man
in spectacles, not hitherto unaccustomed to good living, if one
might judge by his rounded proportions. It is painful to witness his
struggles with the beef, which he maintains with the earnestness of a
man who means to conquer or perish in the endeavor. Opposite sits as
fair a type of a ripe British beauty of the middle class as I have
anywhere seen--with a complexion of snow, a mouth like a red bud and
eyes as beautiful and expressive as those of a splendid large wax
doll, her hair drawn tensely back and rolled into billowy puffs, with
a rose atop. It is sad, in looking on a picture like this--superb in
its suggestions of pure rich blood and abounding health--to reflect
that such a rose will develop into a red peony in ten years. I do not
say the peony will not have her own strong recommendings to the eye:
we may not despise a peony, but it is impossible not to regret that a
rose should turn into one. There is a very good example of the peony
sort near the foot of the table--quite a magnificent creature in her
way. Her husband, who sits next her, is a fiercely-