The habit of ALWAYS ordering John Coachman, three-quarters of an
hour before you want him.

SUCH habits, I say, sir or madam, if you have had to note in your
diary of '61, I have not the slightest doubt you will enter in your
pocket-book of '62. There are habits Nos. 4 and 7, for example. I am
morally sure that some of us will not give up those bad customs, though
the women cry out and grumble, and scold ever so justly. There are
habits Nos. 9 and 13. I feel perfectly certain, my dear young ladies,
that you will continue to keep John Coachman waiting; that you will
continue to give the most satisfactory reasons for keeping him waiting:
and as for (9), you will show that you once (on the 1st of April last,
let us say,) came to breakfast first, and that you are ALWAYS first in
consequence.

Yes; in our '62 diaries, I fear we may all of us make some of the
'61 entries. There is my friend Freehand, for instance. (Aha! Master
Freehand, how you will laugh to find yourself here!) F. is in the habit
of spending a little, ever so little, more than his income. He shows you
how Mrs. Freehand works, and works (and indeed Jack Freehand, if you say
she is an angel, you don't say too much of her); how they toil, and how
they mend, and patch, and pinch; and how they CAN'T live on their means.
And I very much fear--nay, I will bet him half a bottle of Gladstone
14s. per dozen claret--that the account which is a little on the wrong
side this year, will be a little on the wrong side in the next ensuing
year of grace.

A diary. Dies. Hodie. How queer to read are some of the entries in the
journal! Here are the records of dinners eaten, and gone the way of
flesh. The lights burn blue somehow, and we sit before the ghosts of
victuals. Hark at the dead jokes resurging! Memory greets them with the
ghost of a smile. Here are the lists of the individuals who have dined
at your own humble table. The agonies endured before and during those
entertainments are renewed, and smart again. What a failure that special
grand dinner was! How those dreadful occasional waiters did break the
old china! What a dismal hash poor Mary, the cook, made of the French
dish which she WOULD try out of Francatelli! How angry Mrs. Pope was at
not going down to dinner before Mrs. Bishop! How Trimalchio sneered
at your absurd attempt to give a feast; and Harpagon cried out at your
extravagance and ostentation! How Lady Almack bullied the other ladies
in the drawing-roo