"That is very decidedly a Chinese observance. Are they not somewhat
behind in cookery?"

"By no means, madam; on the contrary, they have attained a very high
degree of perfection in that branch of the arts. It is customary, at
every ceremonious dinner, to serve up fifty-two distinct dishes. And
when that course is cleared off, what do you think is produced next?"

"The dessert, I suppose."

"Eight kinds of soup, never either one more or one less. If the number
were deficient, the guests would consider themselves grossly insulted,
the number of dishes denoting the degree of respect entertained by the
host for his guests."

"I beg, Mrs. Wolston," said Mrs. Becker laughing, "that you will not
estimate our esteem for you by the dinner we offer you."

"Well," replied Mrs. Wolston in the same tone, "let me see; to be
treated as we ought to be, there are fifty-seven dishes wanting,
therefore we must go and dine at home. John, call my carriage."

At this sally they all laughed heartily, and even Willis chimed in
with the general hilarity.

"Then, after the soups," continued Ernest, "comes the tea, and with
that the dessert, as also sixty square pieces of silver paper to wipe
the mouth. It is then that the host vanishes, to reappear in a
brilliant robe of gold brocade and a vest of satin."