small gentry of that period, we should see some things
which would seem strange to us, and should miss many more to which we are
accustomed. Every hundred years, and especially a century like the last,
marked by an extraordinary advance in wealth, luxury, and refinement of
taste, as well as in the mechanical arts which embellish our houses, must
produce a great change in their aspect. These changes are always at
work; they are going on now, but so silently that we take no note of
them. Men soon forget the small objects which they leave behind them as
they drift down the stream of life. As Pope says--

Nor does life's stream for observation stay;
It hurries all too fast to mark their way.

Important inventions, such as the applications of steam, gas, and
electricity, may find their places in history; but not so the
alterations, great as they may be, which have taken place in the
appearance of our dining and drawing-rooms. Who can now record the
degrees by which the custom prevalent in my youth of asking each other to
take wine together at dinner became obsolete? Who will be able to fix,
twenty years hence, the date when our dinners began to be carved and
handed round by servants, instead of smoking before our eyes and noses on
the table? To record such little matters would indeed be 'to chronicle
small beer.' But, in a slight memoir like this, I may be allowed to note
some of those changes in social habits which give a colour to history,
but which the historian has the greatest difficulty in recovering.

At that time the dinner-table presented a far less splendid appearance
than it does now. It was appropriated to solid food, rather than to
flowers, fruits, and decorations. Nor was there much glitter of plate
upon it; for the early dinner hour rendered candlesticks unnecessary, and
silver forks had not come into general use: while the broad rounded end
of the knives indicated the substitute generally used instead of them.
{31}

The dinners too were more homely, though not less plentiful and savoury;
and the bill of fare in one house would not be so like that in another as
it is now, for family receipts were held in high estimation. A
grandmother of culinary talent could bequeath to her descendant fame for
some particular dish, and might influence the family dinner for many
generations.

Dos est magna parentium
Virtus.

One house would pride itself on its ham, another on its game-pie, and