time; and after repeated attempts and
failures, and a reasonable amount of vociferation and emphatic
ejaculations on the part of postilions and commissionaires, the thing
was to be declared completed, and finally roped down, and the great
leathern cover drawn over all. Still the process would be got through
before the hour of table d'hote at the Albergo de Reale. I must needs
therefore dine at a restaurant. I betook me to one of these
establishments hard by the _diligence_ office, and took my place at a
small table, with its white napery, small bottle of wine, and roll of
Lombardy bread, in the same room with some thirty or so of the merchants
and citizens of Milan. I intimated my wish to dine _a la carte_; and
instantly the waiter placed the tariff before me, with its list of
dishes and prices. I selected what dishes I pleased, marking, at the
same time, what I should have to pay for each. I dined well, having
respect to the journey of two days and a night I was about to begin, and
knowing, too, that an Italian _diligence_ halts only at long intervals.
The reckoning, I thought, could be no dubious or difficult matter. I
knew the dishes I had eaten, and I saw the prices affixed, and I
concluded that a simple arithmetical process would infallibly conduct me
to the aggregate cost. But when my bill was handed me (a formality
dispensed with in the case of those beside me), I found that my
reckoning and that of "mine host" differed materially. The sum total on
his showing was three times greater than on mine. I was curious to
discover the source of this rather startling discrepancy in so small a
sum. I went over again the list of eaten dishes, and once more went
through the simple arithmetical process which gave the sum total of
their cost, but with no difference in the result. It was plain that
there was some mysterious quality in the arithmetic, or some nice
distinctions in the cookery, which I had not taken into account, which
disturbed my calculations. I became but the more anxious to have the
riddle explained. In my perplexity I applied to the waiter, who referred
me to his master. The day was hot; and boiling, stewing, and roasting,
is hot work; and this may account for the passion into which my simple
interrogatory put "mine host." "It was a just bill, and must be paid." I
hinted that I did not impugn its justice, but simply craved some
explanation about its items. Whereupon mine host, becoming cooler,
condescended to