f you
go on giving such dinners as these you need have no fear of planting
yourself in this city." He was at first disappointed at the reception
accorded him by his native city of Savannah. He had prided himself on
giving that town the benefit of his European education. But there was a
certain resentment at his attitude until "I took up the young fry, who
let their elders very soon know that I had certainly learned something
and that Mc's dinners were bound to be a feature of Savannah." Then came
his _coup_. Certain noble lords were expected from England, the son of
the Duke of Devonshire and the son of the Earl of Shaftesbury, and all
wondered who would have the honour of entertaining them.

The British Consul counted on the distinction. "He was a great
character there, giving the finest dinners, and being an authority on
wine, _i.e._, Madeira, 'Her Majesty's Consul will have the honour.' I
secretly smiled, as I knew they were coming to me, and I expected them
the next day. This same good old Consul had ignored me, hearing that I
had the audacity to give at my table _filet de boeuf aux truffes et
champignons_. I returned home feeling sure that these young noblemen
would be but a few hours under my roof before Her Majesty's Consul would
give me the honour of a visit." He was right. The strangers had not been
settled an hour when the tactful Briton rushed up the front steps.
Throwing his arms around McAllister's neck, he exclaimed: "My dear boy,
I was in love with your mother thirty years ago; you are her image;
carry me to your noble guests." "Ever after," is the naive record of our
hero, "I had the respect and esteem of this dear old man."

Let us get back to our sheep. The narrative has been rambling too far
from Fifth Avenue, and it is with the arbiter of the Avenue that we have
to do. Behold him launched, laughed at perhaps, occasionally, but feared
and courted. He was at the ball given to the Prince of Wales in the
Academy of Music, being the first after the royal guest to take the
floor for the waltz.

He devoted an entire day in railway travel in order to procure a
dress-suit, as he called it, in which to appear at a dinner to two
English lords. He began to arrange for cotillon dinners, figuring the
cost, checking off the invitations, standing at the door of the salon,
naming to each man the lady he was to take in.

There was one point to which his subserviency to British visitors would
not go. Gastronomicall