small beer.' But, in a slight memoir like this, I may be allowed to note
some of those changes in social habits which give a colour to history,
but which the historian has the greatest difficulty in recovering.

At that time the dinner-table presented a far less splendid appearance
than it does now. It was appropriated to solid food, rather than to
flowers, fruits, and decorations. Nor was there much glitter of plate
upon it; for the early dinner hour rendered candlesticks unnecessary, and
silver forks had not come into general use: while the broad rounded end
of the knives indicated the substitute generally used instead of them.
{31}

The dinners too were more homely, though not less plentiful and savoury;
and the bill of fare in one house would not be so like that in another as
it is now, for family receipts were held in high estimation. A
grandmother of culinary talent could bequeath to her descendant fame for
some particular dish, and might influence the family dinner for many
generations.

Dos est magna parentium
Virtus.

One house would pride itself on its ham, another on its game-pie, and a
third on its superior furmity, or tansey-pudding. Beer and home-made
wines, especially mead, were more largely consumed. Vegetables were less
plentiful and less various. Potatoes were used, but not so abundantly as
now; and there was an idea that they were to be eaten only with roast
meat. They were novelties to a tenant's wife who was entertained at
Steventon Parsonage, certainly less than a hundred years ago; and when
Mrs. Austen advised her to plant them in her own garden, she replied,