"Yes," said I, "it is only in their veal, that the French surpass us; their other meats want the ruby juices and elastic freshness of ours. Monsieur L--allowed this truth, with a candour worthy of his vast mind. Mon Dieu! what claret!--what a body! and, let me add, what a soul, beneath it! Who would drink wine like this? it is only made to taste. It is like first love--too pure for the eagerness of enjoyment; the rapture it inspires is in a touch, a kiss. It is a pity, my lord, that we do not serve perfumes at dessert: it is their appropriate place. In confectionary (delicate invention of the Sylphs,) we imitate the forms of the rose and the jessamine; why not their odours too? What is nature without its scents?--and as long as they are absent from our desserts, it is in vain that the Bard exclaims, that-- "'L'observateur de la belle Nature, S'extasie en voyant des fleurs en confiture.'" "It is an exquisite idea of yours," said Guloseton--"and the next time you dine here, we will have perfumes. Dinner ought to be a reunion of all the senses-- "'Gladness to the ear, nerve, heart, and sense.'" There was a momentary pause. "My lord," said I, "what a lusty lusciousness in this pear! it is like the style of the old English poets. What think you of the seeming good understanding between Mr. Gaskell and the Whigs?" "I trouble myself little about it," replied Guloseton, helping himself to some preserves--"politics disturb the digestion." "Well," thought I, "I must ascertain some point in this man's character easier to handle than his epicurism: all men are vain: let us find out the peculiar vanity of mine host." "The Tories," said I, "seem to think themselves exceedingly secure; they attach no importance to the neutral members; it was but the other day, Lord--told me that he did not care a straw for Mr.--, notwithstanding he possessed four votes. Heard you ever such arrogance?" "No, indeed," said Golouston, with a lazy air of indifference--"are you a favourer of the olive?" "No," said I, "I love it not; it hath an under taste of sourness, and an upper of oil, which do not make harmony to my palate. But, as I was saying, the Whigs, on the contrary, pay the utmost deference to their partizans; and a man of fortune, rank, and parliamentary influence, might have all the power without the trouble of a leader." "Very likely," said Guloseton, drowsily. "I must change my battery," thought I; but while I was meditating a new attack, the following note was brought me:-- "For God's sake, Pelham, come out to me: I am waiting in the street to see you; come directly, or it will be too late to render me the service I would ask of you. "R. Glanville." I rose instantly. "You must excuse me, Lord Guloseton, I am called suddenly away." "Ha! ha!" laughed the gourmand; "some tempting viand--post prandia Callirhoe."