“Never saw a finer,” said my friend; “the ladies walked round the lake without their bonnets, and with nothing but their parasols to screen them from the sun. But I tell you who was most amusing amongst the party--that old Yorkshire farmer.” “Ha, ha! old Lawrence--he is a squire now, if you please, and has retired. He was very kind to me on the occasion of the grand agricultural dinner at Exeter; the ox I roasted whole upon that occasion came from his farm; it was roasted by gas, and in the castle yard.” “Ah, I recollect seeing an engraving of it in the _Illustrated London News_; I can’t help laughing when I think of the old man, for at every fresh dish of which he partook--and he tasted a good many--he exclaimed--‘Well! hang me, if I know what stuff I am eating, but it’s precious good!’” “I know he is very eccentric; he stayed with me nearly a week, and really made me laugh heartily with his genuine repartee. He is a good and a charitable man, I assure you. I taught his housekeeper how to make cheap soup while I was at his residence, and ever since the old gentleman has given it four times a-week to the poor round his small estate, during the winter season.” “I know the soup you mean. I cut the receipt from the paper in the year ‘47, at the time of the famine in Ireland, when you were sent there by Government.” “Exactly.” “We tried it ourselves; and my wife’s mother has ever since given it throughout the winter to about twelve or fifteen poor people. The old lady was at first obliged to make it herself, her cook saying that no soup could be made with such a small quantity of meat. She would not even attempt to make it.” “I believe you; but those people are not aware that in Scotland, where the strongest people in the British dominions are to be found, and especially in the Highlands, they live principally upon oatmeal porridge and vegetables, partaking of a very small portion of animal food;--and did you ever see a finer carnation cheek, or purer blood, than that which flows through the frame of a Scotch lassie, or in the veins of the descendants of the Bruce?” “No, never; not even on the Continent. But, to return to the receipts: I would advise you to publish them. They would be eagerly purchased, and would render greater service. You must be aware that a slip from a newspaper is often lost.” “Very true; and I intend to give a series of new receipts on food for the poor, still more simplified.”[2] “With reference to our conversation about old Lawrence: no doubt he is a good fellow, and a genuine rough diamond into the bargain.” “Yes,” said I, “and you may add, of the finest water. By the bye, didn’t he go to bed rather top-heavy?”