120 FEEDING TIME. 



clatter of liorse shoes on a huge piece of earthenware : eacii table 

 presented a vista of most eager faces, earnestly gazing on the 

 savoury messes before them ; hundreds of hands were passing 

 too and fro in quest of the most relishing mouthfuls, and waiters 

 innumerable were continually adding to the already superabun- 

 dant stock of provisions. 



" Allow me to help you to the legs of this goose, sir," whis- 

 pered a wicked looking wag to an aged labourer beside him 

 —who had just finished a fourth plateful of beef-steak picj 

 duly qualified with potatoes. 



" Thank e, sir, I think I could pick a bit more." 



These being demolished, and a decent quantity of plum-pud- 

 ding sent down after them, the latter speaker enquires, 



** Is there any thing at the other end of the table that I have 

 not tasted yet ? " 



" O, yes, my good friend, here 's some cheese, some celery, 

 some butter, and a small loaf." 



These were also annihilated by the old man, who still seemed 

 nothing loth to add to his cargo. 



"Could not you get me a little more of that salery, sir? it 's 

 very nice." 



" I *m sorry it 's all gone/' said his neighbour, who was almost 

 convulsed in endeavouring to restrain outrageous laughter, " but 

 here 's some very fine parsley which is much better." 



The garnish of three or four dishes was quickly sent below, to 

 establish a fellowship with the goose legs, and the operator was 

 at length obliged to exclaim " Hold ! enough." But evidently 

 much against his grain. 



Through the zeal of amateur carvers, many a good joint of 

 smoking mutton and juicy beef, after pirouetting across the table, 

 sought repose in the lap of some innocent citizen, who, being 

 green in such matters, had the consideration to endue himself 

 with his holyday inexpressibles for the occasion. Numerous 

 praiseworthy exertions were made to cut through the bone, by 

 those who were unconscious that sheep and bullocks had joints ; 

 and sundry very handsome waistcoats were newly dyed with very 

 delicious looking gravy. 



*< I say, Mr. Peters, I do n't much relish that joke, you 've 

 stuck your fork three inches into the calf of my leg." 



"On my soul I did n't intend it, Jenkins— my roll fell down, 

 and I mistook your white stocking for it under the table. I really 

 beg your pardon." 



