We have been comfortable in our country-houses for centuries. Even in those rough-and-ready days--when the hall was strewn with rushes, and the blue wood-smoke hung over the heads of the banqueters like a canopy, and the great tawny hounds couched at their master's feet, gnawing the bones as they fell from the bare oak tables, and the maids of Merry England recruited their roses with steaks and ale in the early morning--I believe the Anglo-Saxon squire had a right to be proud of his social privileges, and to contrast them favourably with the short-comings of his Continental neighbours. But it looks as if we had only begun of late years thoroughly to appreciate those advantages; now--there is hardly a tale or a novel written, which does not sound a note or two of triumph on the subject. In truth, it is hardly possible to praise too highly this part of our social system. Nevertheless, in a few of these favoured mansions, there springs up something bitter from the midst of the fountain of delights which, to the minds of many of us, poisons the perfection of hospitality. Sometimes the officer in command is rather too exact and exacting about his morning-parade, insisting upon his company being "all present and correct" within a certain time after the warning gong has sounded. Punctuality is an immense virtue, of course; but our frail and peccant nature will not endure even virtues to be forced upon it against the grain, without grumbling; and there are men--sluggish if you will, but not wholly reprobate--who think that no amount of good shooting or good cookery can compensate for the discomfort of having to battle with a butler for the seisin of their grill, or being forced to keep a footman at fork's length, while they hurry over a succulent "bloater" should they wish to break their fast at a heterodox and unsanctified hour. There is some sense in the objection, after all. If you want to enforce regularity with Spartan sternness, it is better to be consistent, and not tantalize one with contrasts, but recur to the old black-broth and barley-bread form; choose your system and stick to it: it never can answer to mix up Doric simplicity with Ionian luxury. So few things were done by line and measure at Dene, that it would have been strange if breakfast had formed the solitary exception to the rule of--_Fais ce que voudras_. The general hour was perhaps "a liberal ten;" but if any guest chanced to be seized with a fit of laziness, he could indulge his indolent genius without fear of having to fast in expiation. At whatever hour he might appear, a separate breakfast equipage awaited him, with the letters of that post laid out thereon, decently and in order, and the servants seemed only too glad to anticipate his appetite.