People when on a journey in old days were not very particular about their food; indeed, too often thoroughly tired and worn out, they were thankful to get anything to eat at all. Now pretty well every one who is able to afford it is luxurious, and Spartan habits are at a discount. Nevertheless there seem to be no noted gourmets to-day such as used to exist in the past. Foremost amongst those, of course, was Abraham Hayward, whose _Art of Dining_ is, I suppose, but little read at the present time, when many of his gastronomic ideas would be considered quite out of date. His contention, for instance, that the comparative merits of pies and puddings present a problem difficult to decide, would seem somewhat ridiculous to _bons vivants_ of the present day, when puddings, formerly so popular, are, except in the sick-room, rarely seen. Plum-pudding, of course, still maintains its ancient place. It may not be generally known that it originated from plum-porridge, a first course always served at Christmas in the seventeenth century. This was prepared by boiling beef or mutton with a broth thickened by brown bread, raisins, currants, cloves, nutmegs, ginger, and other condiments being inserted when it was half-cooked. The English are very contemptuous of many excellent things which their country affords. Amongst these is the truffle, which, though perhaps not equal in flavour to that of Périgord—called by Brillat Savarin the diamond of the kitchen—is yet most delicious when properly cooked. Besides this, owing to the small esteem in which it is held, its price is exceedingly moderate, English truffles being purchasable in Covent Garden Market at about one-eighth the price of the French variety. Years ago, when staying at the Grange in Hampshire, I asked my host, the late Lord Ashburton, whether he had ever thought of hunting for truffles in his park, abounding as it did in beech trees, under which, in this country, these esculents are found. He told me that he believed there were plenty of truffles, but it was not worth the trouble of searching for them, as no one cared for English truffles. I assured him that he was wrong, for they were excellent; and, yielding to my entreaties, he sent out orders for search to be made, and the next evening we had English truffles for dinner, which were served merely as truffles, without any announcement as to their nationality. Every one ate them, and every one said they were delicious, and from that day to this the English truffle, when in season, has continually been included in the menu of the dinners served at the country house in question. Truffles exist also at Goodwood and in Highclere Park—in fact, pretty well everywhere where there are beech trees. The difficulty in obtaining them seems to lie in the paucity of truffle-hunting dogs, which, of course, have to be specially trained for their work. No doubt, were some easy means discovered of finding truffles, their excellences would become