In The Hands Of An Able Cook,

Another Novelty Is The Tea-party, An Extraordinary Meal In That, Being Offered To Persons That Have Already Dined Well, It Supposes Neither Appetite Nor Thirst, And Has No Object But Distraction, No Basis But Delicate Enjoyment.

Beasts Feed. Man Eats. Only The Man Of Intellect Knows How To Eat.

I Appreciate The Potato Only As A Protection Against Famine, Except For That, I Know Of Nothing More Eminently Tasteless.

Burgundy Makes You Think Of Silly Things; Bordeaux Makes You Talk About Them, And Champagne Makes You Do Them.

Seating Themselves On The Greensward, They Eat While The Corks Fly And There Is Talk, Laughter And Merriment, And Perfect Freedom, For The Universe Is Their Drawing Room And The Sun Their Lamp. Besides, They Have Appetite, Nature's Special Gift, Which Lends To Such A Meal A Vivacity Unknown Indoors, However Beautiful The Surroundings.