ole, _entree_, leg of mutton, and apple tart' used
to be the unambitious _menu_ of the old-fashioned inn. The _entree_ was
terrible, but the fish, meat, and sweet were excellent. I will say
nothing of the _entrees_ now; I am not in a position to say anything,
for not being of a sanguine temperament, and having but a few years to
live, I do not venture upon them. But it is undeniable that our bill of
fare is greatly more varied than it used to be, and that the way in
which the table is arranged is much more attractive. At the great
hotels in the neighbourhood of London where rich, or at all events
prodigal people, go to dine in the summer months, this is especially
the case. All these establishments affect fine dinners, yet how seldom
it is they give you good ones! Their wines, though monstrously dear,
are very fair; indeed, of the champagnes at least you may make certain
by looking at the corks; but the food! How many of their fancifully
named dishes might be included under the common title, Fiasco!

It was once suggested to a decayed man of fashion that an excellent
profession for him to take up would be the proprietorship of an hotel
of this class. 'You know what is really worth eating,' said an
influential friend of his, 'and these caterers for your own class
evidently don't; if you will undertake the management of the _Mammoth_
(naming an inn of very high repute), I will furnish the funds.' But the
man of fashion, who had spent his all with very little to show for it,
had at least acquired some knowledge of his fellow-creatures. 'I am
deeply obliged to you,' he said, 'but were I to accept your offer I
should only lose your money. There are but a very few people in the
world who know a good dinner when it is set before them; and a very
large class (including all the ladies, who are only solicitous about
its _looking_ good) do not care whether it is good or bad. In private
life if a dinner consists of many courses, is given at a fine house,
and is presumably expensive, nineteen-twentieths of those who sit down
to it are satisfied. The twentieth alone says to himself, 'How much
better I should have dined at home!' I have been at scores and scores
of great dinner-parties where the very plates were cold and nobody but
myself has observed it.'

I have no doubt the gentleman of fashion was right; delicate cooking
would be entirely thrown away upon the general palate. The fair sex,
the young, the hungry, the easy-going, th