for three hours listening to awful speeches.’ ‘Well, they are generally tedious,’ said Wentworth. ‘I have had to attend a good many at one time or other.’ ‘Yes, but there was such a waste of time; all sorts of irrelative toasts obviously introduced merely for the purpose of affording mediocre aldermen and M.P.’s a chance of airing their vocabulary. But worst of all,’ said the minister, ‘was the awful amount of guzzling and feeding. Everyone seemed only intent on getting as many of the good things on his plate as he could. And as to the champagne, the gentlemen, as they called themselves, seemed as if they had never tasted any before, and as if they would never have the chance again. Many of them were quite drunk, and the whole affair soon resolved itself into a drunken orgy. I was quite disgusted with my species. No one who would wish to think well of humanity ought to attend a public dinner. The wine being provided, they seemed as if they could not have enough of it. It was positively sickening.’ ‘And yet Thomas Walker advocates the public dinner. Indeed, he goes so far as to say that to ensure good parochial government, good dinners should be provided for the authorities. The aim should be, he tells us, to procure the best services at the cheapest rate, and in the most efficient way, and there is no system so cheap or efficient as that of the table. The Athenians, in their most glorious days, rewarded their citizens who had deserved well of the State by maintaining them at the public expense in Prytaneum or Council Hall. The table also is a mode of payment for services to be performed which goes further than any other, and will command greater punctuality, greater attention, and greater regularity. When properly regulated it is the bond of union and harmony, the school for the improvement of manners and civilization, the place where information is elicited and corrected better than anywhere else; and I believe, after all,’ said Wentworth, ‘old Walker was right.’ ‘And pray who was Walker?’ ‘Thomas Walker was the author of “The Original,” a book highly popular with our forefathers and well worthy to be read by their sons. Walker was a police magistrate in London. “The Original” appeared in twenty-nine parts. Since then it has been republished in a volume. The first number appeared in May, 1835. He was ill when he commenced it, and died before it was completed. Almost his last essay in it was on “The Art of attaining High Health.” It is curious to reflect that it was written by a man at whose door death was already knocking. He died suddenly in Brussels, the early age of fifty-two. By all means, I repeat, read Walker.’ ‘So I will. I am quite aware there are two sides to every question.’