and some visitors whom he had brought from London. The Reverend
Doctor Folliott was introduced to Mr. Mac Quedy, the economist; Mr.
Skionar, the transcendental poet; Mr. Firedamp, the meteorologist;
and Lord Bossnowl, son of the Earl of Foolincourt, and member for
the borough of Rogueingrain.

The divine took his seat at the breakfast-table, and began to
compose his spirits by the gentle sedative of a large cup of tea,
the demulcent of a well-buttered muffin, and the tonic of a small
lobster.

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. You are a man of taste, Mr. Crotchet. A man of
taste is seen at once in the array of his breakfast-table. It is
the foot of Hercules, the far-shining face of the great work,
according to Pindar's doctrine: [Greek text]. The breakfast is
the [Greek text] of the great work of the day. Chocolate, coffee,
tea, cream, eggs, ham, tongue, cold fowl, all these are good, and
bespeak good knowledge in him who sets them forth: but the
touchstone is fish: anchovy is the first step, prawns and shrimps
the second; and I laud him who reaches even to these: potted char
and lampreys are the third, and a fine stretch of progression; but
lobster is, indeed, matter for a May morning, and demands a rare
combination of knowledge and virtue in him who sets it forth.

MR. MAC QUEDY. Well, sir, and what say you to a fine fresh trout,
hot and dry, in a napkin? or a herring out of the water into the
frying-pan, on the shore of Loch Fyne?

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Sir, I say every nation has some eximious
virtue; and your country is pre-eminent in the glory of fish for