olescent
creature, commonly called a Boston scrod, which is a codfish whose
voice is just changing, is not without its attractions; but the
full-grown species is not a favourite of mine.

To me there has ever been something depressing about an adult codfish.
Any one who has ever had occasion to take cod-liver oil--as who,
unhappily, has not?--is bound to appreciate the true feelings that
must inevitably come to a codfish as he goes to and fro in the deep
for years on a stretch, carrying that kind of a liver about with him
all the while.

As a last resort I took the jugged hare; but jugged hare was not what
I craved. At eventide, returning to the same restaurant, I was
luckier. I found mutton on the menu; but, even so, yet another hard
blow awaited me. By reason of the meat-rationing arrangements a single
purchaser was restricted to so many ounces a week, and no more. The
portion I received in exchange for a corner clipped off my meat card
was but a mere reminder of what a portion in that house would have
been in the old days.

There had been a time when a sincere but careless diner from up
Scotland way, down in London on a visit, would have carried away more
than that much on his necktie; which did not matter particularly then,
when food was plentiful; and, besides, usually he wore a pattern of
necktie which was improved by almost anything that was spilled upon
it. But it did matter to me that I had to dine on this hangnail pared
from a sheep.

A few days later I partook of a fast at what was supposed to be a
luncheon, which the Lord Mayor of London attended, in company with
sundry other notables. Earlier readings had led me to expect an
endless array of spicy and succulent viands at any table a Lord Mayor
might grace with his presence. Such, though, was not the case here. We
had eggs for an _entree_; and after that we had plain boiled turbot,
which to my mind is no great shakes of a fish, even when tuckered up
with sauces; and after that we had coffee and cigars; and finally we
had several cracking good speeches by members of a race whose men are
erroneously believed by some Americans to be practically inarticulate
when they get up on their feet and try to talk.

There was a touch of tragedy mingled in with the comedy of the
situation in the spectacle of these Englishmen, belonging to a nation
of proverbially generous feeders, stinting themselves and cutting the
lardings and the sweetenings and the garnishments