creams have long since given way to harlequins, gondoliers, Turks,
Chinese, and shepherdesses of Saxon china. Meadows of cattle spread
themselves over the table. Cottages in sugar, and temples in barley
sugar, pigmy Neptunes in cars of cockle shells trampling over oceans of
looking glass or seas of silver tissue. Gigantic figures succeed to
pigmies; and it is known that a celebrated confectioner complained that,
after having prepared a middle dish of gods and goddesses eighteen feet
high, his lord would not cause the ceiling of his parlour to be
demolished to facilitate their entree. "_Imaginez-vous_," said he, "_que
milord n'a pas vouler faire oter le plafond_!"

To show how much luxurious living has increased during the present
century I propose to quote a portion of that wonderfully brilliant third
chapter of Macaulay's _England_ which we all know. Speaking of the
squire of former days, he says, "His chief serious employment was the
care of his property. He examined samples of grain, handled pigs, and,
on market days, made bargains over a tankard with drovers and hop
merchants. His chief pleasures were commonly derived from field sports
and from an unrefined sensuality. His language and pronunciation were
such as we should now expect to hear only from the most ignorant clowns.
His oaths, coarse jests, and scurrilous terms of abuse were uttered with
the broadest accent of his province. It was easy to discern from the
first words which he spoke whether he came from Somersetshire or
Yorkshire. He troubled himself little about decorating his abode, and,
if he attempted decoration, seldom produced anything but deformity. The
litter of a farm-yard gathered under the windows of his bed-chamber, and
the cabbages and gooseberry bushes grew close to his hall door. His
table was loaded with coarse plenty; and guests were cordially welcomed
to it. But as the habit of drinking to excess was general in the class
to which he belonged, and as his fortune did not enable him to intoxicate