"But a nice leg of mutton, my Lucy,
I prithee get ready by three;
Have it smoking, and tender, and juicy,
And, what better meat can there be?
And when it has served for the master,
'Twill amply suffice for the maid;
Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster,
And tipple my ale in the shade."

Can anything be more awful than a public dinner--the waste, the
extravagance, the outrageous superfluity of everything, the enormous
waste of time, the solemn gorging, as if the whole end and aim of life
were turtle and venison. I do not know whether to dignify such
proceedings by the name of luxury. But what shall I say of gentlemen's
clubs. They are the very hotbed of luxury. By merely asking for it you
obtain almost anything you require in the way of luxury. I am aware that
many men at clubs live more carefully and frugally, but I am aware also
that a great many acquire habits of self-indulgence which produce
idleness and selfish indifference to the wants of others. In a still
more pernicious fashion, I think that refreshment bars at railway
stations minister to luxury; at least I am sure they foster a habit of
drinking more than is necessary, or desirable; and that is one form of
luxury, and a very bad one. The fellows of a Camford college are
reported to have met on one occasion and voted that we do sell our chapel
organ; and the next motion, carried _nem. con_., was that we do have a
dinner. As to ornaments for the dinner table what affectation and
expense do we see. But in the days of Walpole it was not amiss. "The
last branch of our fashion into which the close observation of nature has
been introduced is our desserts. Jellies, biscuits, sugar plums, and