modern cookery; there was Charles Selby, the poet and essayist;
Daintrey, the sculptor--a wonderful Ornithologist--a deep read
Historian--a learned Orientalist--and a novelist, from France; whose
works exhibited such unheard of horrors, and made man and woman so
irremediably vicious, as to make this young gentleman celebrated, even
in Paris--that Babylonian sink of iniquity.

Dinner was announced, and our host, giving his arm very stoically to
Mrs. Glenallan, his love of former days, led the way to the dining-room.
Round the table were placed beautifully carved oaken fauteuils, of a
very old pattern. The service of plate was extremely plain, but of
massive gold. But the lamp! It was of magnificent dimensions! The light
chains hanging from the frescoed ceiling, the links of which were hardly
perceptible, were of silver, manufactured in Venice; the lower part was
of opal-tinted glass, exactly portraying some voluptuous couch, on which
the beautiful Amphitrite might have reclined, as she hastened through
beds of coral to crystal grot, starred with transparent stalactites. In
the centre of this shell, were sockets, whence verged small hollow
golden tubes, resembling in shape and size the stalks of a flower. At
the drooping ends of these, were lamps shaped and coloured to imitate
the most beauteous flowers of the parterre. This bouquet of light had
been designed by Mr. Graeme. Few novelties had acquired greater
celebrity than the Graeme astrale. The room was warmed by heating the
pedestals of the statues.

"Potage a la fantome, and a l'ourika."

"I will trouble you, Graeme," said my Lord Chambery, "for the fantome. I
have dined on la pritanniere for the last three months, and a novel soup
is a novel pleasure."