provement that could be introduced into American
hotel-keeping. No one knows better than I do how disastrous the present
system is to all parties. Take as an example of the present way, the
dinner I am going to give you to-morrow, in honor of Christmas. Glance
over this _menu_. You will see that it enumerates every costly and
delicate article of food possible to procure and a long list of other
dishes, the greater part of which will not even be called for. As no
number of _chefs_ could possibly oversee the proper preparation of such a
variety of meats and sauces, all will be carelessly cooked, and as you
know by experience, poorly served.

"People who exact useless variety," he added, "are sure in some way to be
the sufferers; in their anxiety to try everything, they will get nothing
worth eating. Yet that meal will cost me considerably more than my
guests pay for their twenty-four hours' board and lodging."

"Why do it, you ask? Because it is the custom, and because it will be an
advertisement. These bills of fare will be sown broadcast over the
country in letters to friends and kept as souvenirs. If, instead of all
this senseless superfluity, I were allowed to give a _table d'hote_ meal
to-morrow, with the _chef_ I have, I could provide an exquisite dinner,
perfect in every detail, served at little tables as deftly and silently
as in a private house. I could also discharge half of my waiters, and
charge two dollars a day instead of five dollars, and the hotel would
become (what it has never been yet) a paying investment, so great would
he the saving."

"Only this morning," he continued, warming to his subject, "while
standing in the dining room, I saw a young man order and then send away
half the dishes on the _menu_. A chicken was broiled for him and
rejected; a steak and an omelette fared no better. How much do you
suppose a hotel gains from a guest like that?"

"The reason Americans put up with such poor viands in hotels is, that
home cooking in this country is so rudimentary, consisting principally of
fried dishes, and hot breads. So little is known about the proper
preparation of food that to-morrow's dinner will appear to many as the
_ne plus ultra_ of delicate living. One of the charms of a hotel for
people who live poorly at home, lies in this power to order expensive
dishes they rarely or never see on their own tables."

"To be served with a quantity of food that he has but little desire to