as noticed. Part of
the new presents seem to have some reference to the earl's former
mischance. The queen received them graciously, and was even painted
wearing those gloves; but my authority states, that the masculine sense
of Elizabeth could not abstain from congratulating the noble coxcomb;
perceiving, she said, that at length my lord had forgot the mentioning
the little mischance of seven years ago!

This peer's munificence abroad was indeed the talk of Europe; but the
secret motive of this was as wicked as that of his travels had been
ridiculous. This Earl of Oxford had married the daughter of Lord
Burleigh, and when this great statesman would not consent to save the
life of the Duke of Norfolk, the friend of this earl, he swore to
revenge himself on the countess, out of hatred to his father-in-law. He
not only forsook her, but studied every means to waste that great
inheritance which had descended to him from his ancestors. Secret
history often startles us with unexpected discoveries: the personal
affectations of this earl induced him to quit a court where he stood in
the highest favour, to domesticate himself abroad; and a family _pique_
was the secret motive of that splendid prodigality which, at Florence,
could throw into shade the court of Tuscany itself.

ANCIENT COOKERY, AND COOKS.

The memorable grand dinner given by the classical doctor in Peregrine
Pickle, has indisposed our tastes for the cookery of the ancients; but,
since it is often "the cooks who spoil the broth," we cannot be sure but
that even "the black Lacedaemonian," stirred by the spear of a Spartan,
might have had a poignancy for him, which did not happen at the more
recent classical banquet.

The cookery of the ancients must have been superior to our humbler art,
since they could find dainties in the tough membranous parts of the
matrices of a sow, and the flesh of young hawks, and a young ass. The
elder Pliny records, that one man had studied the art of fattening
snails with paste so successfully, that the shells of some of his snails
would contain many quarts.[121] The same monstrous taste fed up those
prodigious goose livers; a taste still prevailing in Italy. Swine were
fattened with whey and figs; and even fish in their ponds were increased
by such artificial means. Our prize oxen might have astonished a Roman
as much as one of their crammed peacocks would ourselves. Gluttony
produces monsters, and turns away from nature to