STILL PRANDIAL

What wine shall we have? I confess I am no judge of wines,
except when they are bad. To-night I feel inclined to allow my
choice to be directed by sentiment; and as we are on so pretty a
pilgrimage, would it not be appropriate to drink Liebfraumilch?

Hock is full of fancy, and all wines are by their very nature
full of reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers
that are gone.

Forgive me, therefore, if I grow reminiscent. Indeed, I fear that
the hour for the story of my First Love has come. But first,
notice the waitress. I confess, whether beautiful or plain,--not
too plain,--women who earn their own living have a peculiar
attraction for me.

I hope the Golden Girl will not turn out to be a duchess. As old
Campion sings,--


"I care not for those ladies
Who must be wooed and prayed;
Give me kind Amaryllis,
The wanton country-maid."


Town-maids too of the same pattern. Whether in town or country,
give me the girls that work. The Girls That Work! But evidently
it is high time woe began a new chapter.