"When asked out to dine by a Person of Quality, Mind and observe the most strict punctuality! For should you come late, and make dinner wait, And the victuals get cold, you'll incur, sure as fate, The Master's displeasure, the Mistress's hate. And though both may, perhaps, be too well-bred to swear,-- They'll heartily wish you--I need not say _Where_." Grace before meat is usually well expressed by the reverend clergy, and perhaps the brief introductory thanksgiving of the late Canon Shuttleworth is as happy as any: "For good life and good health; for good company and good cheer, may the Giver of all good things make us thankful." So far as orthodox graces are concerned, it were difficult to improve upon the two fervent thanksgivings of Psalms XXXIV and CXLV: "The lions do lack, and suffer hunger: but they who seek the Lord shall want no manner of thing that is good. "The eyes of all wait upon thee, O Lord: and thou givest them their meat in due season. "Thou openest thine hand: and fillest all things living with plenteousness." So many Protestant denominations exist in America that the manner of entertaining the ministry varies considerably. In no religious sect does _fine champagne_ or any other form of cognac figure, as a general rule, though the use of vinous beverages is less denounced at present than formerly. The most genial hosts and guests among Protestant divines are unquestionably the Episcopalians. But if claret and alcoholic beverages are the exception on the tables of many denominations, the pastor does not lack for substantial aliments when entertained by his parishioners, who here, as in England, fairly dispute for his possession. That the duck at least, among the toothsome contributions to the table, is appreciated by the Protestant clergy no less than the laity is apparent from the apostrophe to the canvasback of the Rev. Joseph Barber, who has addressed the king of the _Anseres_ in these colourful stanzas: "A duck has been immortalized by Bryant, A wild one, too; Sweetly he hymned the creature, lithe and buoyant, Cleaving the blue. But whoso says the duck through ether flying, Seen by the bard, Equals the canvasback before me lying, Tells a _canard_. "Done to a turn, the flesh a dark carnation, The gravy red; Four slices from the breast--on such a ration Gods might have fed. Bryant, go to: to say that thy rare ghost-duck, Traced 'gainst the sky, Could e'er at all compare with this rare roast duck, Is all my eye."[37]