The family consisted of an old grey-bearded man and his wife, with five
or six sons and sons-in-law, and their several wives, and a joyous
genealogy out of them.

They were all sitting down together to their lentil-soup, a large
wheaten loaf was in the middle of the table, and a flagon of wine at
each end of it promised joy through the stages of the repast; 'twas a
feast of love.

The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would
have me sit down at the table; my heart was set down the moment I
entered the room; so I sat down at once, like a son of the family; and,
to invest myself in the character as speedily as I could, I instantly
borrowed the old man's knife, and, taking up the loaf, cut myself a
hearty luncheon; and, as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not
only of an honest welcome, but of a welcome mixed with thanks that I had
not seemed to doubt it.

Was it this? or tell me, Nature, what else it was that made this morsel
so sweet; and to what magic I owe it, that the draught I took of their
flagon was so delicious with it, that they remain upon my palate to this
hour.

If the supper was to my taste, the grace which followed it was much more
so.


THE GRACE
[Sidenote: _Sterne_]