ell tell
you that he cannot feed himself; it is both as necessary and as
easy."--Lord CHESTERFIELD'S _211th Letter_.

Next to giving a good dinner, is treating our friends with hospitality
and attention, and this attention is what young people have to learn.
Experience will teach them in time, but till they acquire it, they will
appear ungraceful and awkward.

Although the _art of carving_ is one of the most necessary
accomplishments of a gentleman, it is little known but to those who have
long been accustomed to it; a more useful or acceptable present cannot
be offered to the public than to lay before them a book calculated to
teach the rising generation how to acquit themselves amiably in this
material part of the duties of the table.

Young people seldom study this branch of the philosophy of the banquet,
beyond the suggestion of their own whims and caprices; and cut up things
not only carelessly, but wastefully, until they learn the pleasure of
paying butchers' and poulterers' bills on their own account.

Young housekeepers, unaccustomed to carving, will, with the help of the
following instructions, soon be enabled to carve with ease and elegance;
taking care also to observe, as occasion may offer, the manner in which
a skilful operator sets about his task, when a joint or fowl is placed
before him.

It has been said, that you may judge of a person's character by his
handwriting; you may judge of his conscience by his carving.

Fair carving is much more estimable evidence of good nature than fair
writing: let me see how a gentleman carves at another person's table,
especially how he helps himself, and I will presently tell you how far
he is of Pope's opinion, that

"True self-love and social are the same."

The selfish appetites never exhibit themselves in a more unmasked and
more disgusting manner than in the use they excite a man to make of his
knife and fork in carving for himself, especially when not at his own
cost.

Some keen observer of human nature has said, "Would you know a man's
real disposition, ask him to dinner, and give him plenty to drink."

"The Oracle" says, "invite the gentleman to dinner, certainly, and set
him to carving." The gentleman who wishes to ensure a hearty welcome,
and frequent invitations to the board of hospitality, may calculate with
Cockerial correctness, that "the easier he appears to be pleased, the
oftener he will be invited." Instead of unblushingly de