274 THE LIFE OF RICHARD JEFFERIES 



it first-rate. For this cause people in grand villas scarcely 

 ever have anything worth eating on their tables. Their 

 household expenses reach thousands yearly, and yet they 

 rarely have anything eatable, and their dinner-tables can 

 never show meat, vegetables, or fruit equal to Mr. Iden's. 

 The meat was dark brown, as mutton should be, for if it 

 is the least bit white it is sure to be poor ; the grain was 

 short, and ate like bread and butter, firm, and yet almost 

 crumbling to the touch ; it was full of juicy red gravy, and 

 cut pleasantly, the knife went through it nicely ; you can 

 tell good meat directly you touch it with the knife. It was 

 cooked to a turn, and had been done at a wood fire on a 

 hearth ; no oven taste, no taint of coal-gas or carbon ; 

 the pure flame of wood had browned it. Such emana- 

 tions as there may be from burning logs are odorous of 

 the woodland, of the sunshine, of the fields and fresh air ; 

 the wood simply gives out as it burns the sweetness it has 

 imbibed through its leaves from the atmosphere which 

 floats above grass and flowers. Essences of this order, if 

 they do penetrate the fibres of the meat, add to its flavour 

 a delicate aroma. Grass-fed meat, cooked at a wood fire, 

 for me. 



' Wonderful it is that wealthy people can endure to 

 have their meat cooked over coal or in a shut-up iron box, 

 where it kills itself with its own steam, which ought to 

 escape. But then, wealthy villa people do do odd things. 

 Les Miserables who have to write like myself must put up 

 with anything and be thankful for permission to exist ; 

 but people with mighty incomes from tea, or crockery- 

 ware, or mud, or bricks and mortar — why on earth these 

 happy and favoured mortals do not live like the gods 

 passes understanding. 



' Parisian people use charcoal : perhaps Paris will 

 convert some of you who will not listen to a farmer. 



' Mr. Iden had himself grown the potatoes that were 

 placed before him. They were white, floury, without a 

 drop of water in the whole dish of them. They were equal 

 to the finest bread — far, far superior to the bread with 



