26 
A NATIVE FEAST. 
bounds to the larks mad carolling overhead, know 
that you have an enjoyment never to be had 
here. Here is no joyous spring ; here reigns 
for ever an oppressiveness of richness, a mono- 
tony of profusion, which cannot have the charm 
of the sweet June-tide, the crown of the year. 
There are no t( sunless days when autumn leaves 
wear a sunlight of their own,” and you may never 
see the fairy-like freaks of Father Frost. 
I was fortunate enough, through the kindness 
of our host of the hotel, to see a native feast, 
given in honour of the son of the chief butler, 
'who had just finished his studies at school with 
considerable credit. About 10 o’clock of a per- 
fect moonlight night we set off for the scene of 
the entertainment, some distance from the town, 
and approached a greensward shut in by tall 
trees, through arches festooned with greenery and 
gay decorations of flowers. In the open air, in this 
natural enclosure, the tables were already spread. 
Preparations, we were told, liad been in progress 
for over a month, ancl the quantity of substantial 
viands and confections of attractive colour and 
skilful composition showed that the time must 
have been busily employed. We found the 
guests already seated, talking and gazing at 
the tiers of plates containing the eatables,- — for 
