What a difference between the _tables d'hote_ in Germany and in Switzerland! I always prefer the _table d'hote_ when it is respectable, for nothing is more unpleasant than remaining in a hotel shut up in your own room; the latter may be more dignified and aristocratic, but it is not the way to see the world; one might as well be in England, and, indeed, had much better. A _table d'hote_ is a microcosm: you meet there all nations, people of all professions--some idle, some busy travelling on important matters, others travelling for amusement. You are unfortunate if you do not fall in with one clever man at least, and you are quite sure to meet with a fool, which is almost as amusing. When I survey a _table d'hote_ I often think of the calenders who had all come to spend the _Ramadhan_ at Bagdad, and their histories; and I have thought that Grattan might make a very good series of Highways and Byways if he could obtain the history of those who meet at this general rendezvous. The _tables d'hote_ in Germany are excellent, properly supplied, and very moderate. I cannot say so of those in Switzerland. The fondness of the Swiss for money betrays itself in everything, and instead of liberality at the _table d'hote_, we have meanness. The dinner itself is dearer than in Germany, and not half so good; but what is the most unexcusable part of our host's conduct is, that he half serves his guests, as Sancho was served at Barataria; for instance, as is usually the case, the viands are put on the table and then removed to be carved; two ducks will make their appearance at one end, two chickens at the other; are removed, and only one of each is cut up and handed round, the others are sent away whole to be re-dressed for some great man who dines in his own room. This has been constantly the case since I have been here. It may be asked, why we do not remonstrate? In the first place, I prefer watching my host's manoeuvres; and in the next, although I might get my duck, my host would charge me the whole value of it when he sent in his bill. The French Ambassador could not have taken a better step to bring the Swiss to their senses than threatening them with a blockade. It would have been ruin to them. All the golden harvests would have been over, their country would have been deserted, and their Ranz des Vaches would have been listened to only by the cows. As the French minister expected, the councils fumed and vapoured, the officers drew their swords and flourished them, and then--very quietly pocketed the affront that they might not be out of pocket. What a pity it is that a nation so brave and with so many good sterling qualities, should be, as it would appear, so _innately_ mercenary! There never was a truer saying than "Point d'argent, point de Suisse." CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.