After a gracious, cooing welcome, more whispered than spoken, I was presented to the guests I did not know.Before this ceremony was well over, two maids in black, with white caps, opened a door into the dining-room and announced luncheon.As this is written on the theme that "people know too little how their neighbors live," Igive the MENU.It may amuse my readers and serve, perhaps, as a little object lesson to those at home who imagine that quantity and not quality is of importance.
Our gracious hostess had earned a fortune in her profession (and Iam told that two CHEFS preside over her simple meals); so it was not a spirit of economy which dictated this simplicity.At first, HORS D'OEUVRES were served, - all sorts of tempting little things, - very thin slices of ham, spiced sausages, olives and caviar, and eaten - not merely passed and refused.Then came the one hot dish of the meal."One!" I think I hear my reader exclaim.Yes, my friend, but that one was a marvel in its way.Chicken AL'ESPAGNOLE, boiled, and buried in rice and tomatoes cooked whole -a dish to be dreamed of and remembered in one's prayers and thanksgivings! After at least two helpings each to this CHEF-D'OEUVRE, cold larded fillet and a meat pate were served with the salad.Then a bit of cheese, a beaten cream of chocolate, fruit, and bon-bons.For a drink we had the white wine from which champagne is made (by a chemical process and the addition of many injurious ingredients); in other words, a pure BRUT champagne with just a suggestion of sparkle at the bottom of your glass.All the party then migrated together into the smoking-room for cigarettes, coffee, and a tiny glass of LIQUEUR.