my mediating powers were called into operation, as the following
dialogue will exemplify.

"They gave us a very nice dinner, sir," said the good humoured brother
who sat on my left.

I replied that I was very well satisfied with it.

"But you don't know what their messes are made of. For my part I like to
know what, I eat," observed the discontented brother on my right, "and
you don't mean surely, sir, to say that such as they gave us was
anything to compare to a good English dinner."

That, I remarked, was entirely an affair of taste; that I myself was
most partial to the simpler mode of living of the English, but not so
the high aristocracy of our country, with whom French cooks are in the
greatest estimation.

"I was very much pleased with the _vin ordinaire_, as they call it, and
found it a pleasant light wine, particularly agreeable when one is
thirsty," said Good Humour.

"_Light_ enough at any rate," returned Discontent, "and well named _vin
ordinaire_, for ordinary it is in every sense of the word, pretty much
like themselves for that; but if you like to have any when we are in
England, I'll make you some; take a little port wine, put some vinegar
and a good deal of water with it and there you have it at once; is not
that your opinion, sir?"

I replied, that I considered it a beverage well adapted for a sort of