fact and substance than this most visionary of all
baseless things--the Roman _prandium_, of which we shall presently show you
that the most approved translation is _moonshine_.

Reader, we are not jesting here. In the very spirit of serious truth, we
assure you, that the delusion about "jentaculum" is even exceeded by this
other delusion about "prandium." Salmasius himself, for whom a natural
prejudice of place and time partially obscured the truth, admits, however,
that _prandium_ was a meal which the ancients rarely took; his very words
are--"_raro prandebant veteres_." Now, judge for yourself of the good sense
which is shown in translating by the word _dinner_, which must of necessity
mean the chief meal--a Roman word which represents a fancy meal, a meal of
caprice, a meal which few people took. At this moment, what is the single
point of agreement between the noon meal of the English laborer and the
evening meal of the English gentleman? What is the single circumstance
common to both, which causes us to denominate them by the common name of
_dinner_? It is that in both we recognize the _principal_ meal of the
day, the meal upon which is thrown the _onus_ of the day's support. In
everything else they are as wide asunder as the poles; but they agree in
this one point of their function. Is it credible that, to represent such a
meal amongst ourselves, we select a Roman word so notoriously expressing a
mere shadow, a pure apology, that very few people ever tasted it--nobody
sate down to it--not many washed their hands after it, and gradually the
very name of it became interchangeable with another name, implying the
slightest possible act of trying or sipping? "_Post larationem sine mensa
prandium_," says Seneca, "_post quod non sunt lavandae manus_;" that is,
"after bathing, I take a _prandium_ without sitting down to table, and such
a _prandium_ as brings after itself no need of washing the hands." No;
moonshine as little soils the hands as it oppresses the stomach.

Reader! we, as well as Pliny, had an uncle, an East Indian uncle; doubtless
you have such an uncle; everybody has an Indian uncle. Generally such a
person is "rather yellow, rather yellow," [to quote Canning _versus_ Lord
Durham:] that is the chief fault with his physics; but, as to his morals,
he is universally a man of princely aspirations and habits. He is not
always so orientally rich as he is reputed; but he is always orientally
munificent. Call upon