And into glory peep.

w. VAUGHAN Ascension Hymn.

When the Sultan Shah-Zaman

Goes to the city Ispahan,

Even before he gets so far

As the place where the clustered palm trees

are,

At the last of the thirty palace gates,

The pet of the Harem, Rose in Bloom,
Orders a feast in his favorite room,-
Glittering square of colored ice,

Sweetened with syrups, tinctured with spice;

Creams, and cordials, and sugared dates;
Syrian apples, Othmanee Quinces,

Limes and citrons and apricots,

And wines that are known to Eastern princes. THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH-When the Sultan Goes to Ispahan. I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel, My morning incense, and my evening meal, The Sweets of Hasty Pudding.

f. Canto I. Wouldst thou both eat thy cake and have it? g. HERBERT-The Temple. The Size. The chief pleasure (in eating) does not consist in costly seasoning or exquisite flavour, but in yourself. Do you seek for sauce in sweating?

BARLOW-The Hasty Pudding.

h. HORACE.

Your supper is like the Hidalgo's dinner; very little meat, and a great deal of tablecloth.

LONGFELLOW-The Spanish Student. Act I. Sc. 4. Oh, better no doubt is a dinner of herbs, When season'd by love, which no rancor disturbs,

And sweeten'd by all that is sweetest in life
Than turbot, bisque, ortolans, eaten in strife!
But if out of humour, and hungry, alone
A man should sit down to dinner, each one
Of the dishes of which the cook chooses to
spoil

With a horrible mixture of garlic and oil,
The chances are ten against one, I must own,
He gets up as ill-tempered as when he sat
down.

j.

OWEN MEREDITH--Lucile. Pt. I. Canto II. St. 27.

O hour, of all hours, the most bless'd upon

earth,

Blessed hour of our dinners!

k.

OWEN MEREDITH--Lucile. Pt. I.
Canto II. St. 22.

We may live without poetry, music and art; We may live without conscience, and live without heart;

We may live without friends; we may live without books;

But civilized man cannot live without cooks. He may live without books,-what is knowledge but grieving?

He may live without hope,-what is hope but deceiving?

He may live without love,-what is passion but pining?

But where is the man that can live without dining?