are capable of labour, and who, it is said, are entitled to have employment found them, if they cannot get it themselves, or to subsistence, because all property is appropriated, I answer, that in a civilized state there could be no such class, unless created or permitted by defective government. Where political regulations are such as to give all men fair play, and not to place any unnecessary temptations to improvidence in their way, the same exertion and the same prudence that would enable the savage to exist would enable the civilized labourer to live well, and to find employment for himself under all circumstances; whereas the savage, with only the pauper standard of shifting for himself, would be starved to death. Whatever quantity of destitution there may be in this country or in Ireland for want of employment it may be traced to removable causes; but to provide for that destitution by the adoption of a permanent principle is the surest way to prevent the causes from being removed. Whenever government is carried on upon the principle that "whatever is morally wrong cannot be politically right," the standard of morals, individually, will soon be raised too high to admit of anything like a class of paupers, and there will be no destitution, for the relief of which the funds of private charity will not be far more than sufficient. My conclusion is, that Poor Laws are not founded on any natural right, but that they merely involve a question of expediency; and I think that no system of management will be ultimately productive of benefit, unless it has for its object the total abolition of the principle. There is another point of view in which I would put the principle of Poor Laws, and that is, that they can only be an expedient to supply the deficiencies of wages or the waste of improvidence. If wages are high enough to support the whole class of labourers, Poor Laws would only encourage improvidence ; if wages are not high enough, Poor Laws would operate to prevent their becoming so. Temporary want of employment is no argument for the adoption of a permanent principle, and permanent want of employment argues an over-population, which can only be the result of improvidence, for which the Poor Laws are not the cure. No. XXI.-WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1835. ART OF DINING. As the season for fires is approaching, or rather, from the wet weather, is arrived, I must make an observation or two upon that important head. A cheerful fire is our household sun, which I, for one, like to have ever shining upon me, especially in the coming months of November and December, when the contrast between that and the external fogs and mud is most striking and agreeable. A good fire is the next best substitute for a summer sun, and, as our summer sun is none of the brightest, we are wise to make the most of its successor. An Englishman's fireside has, time out of mind, been proverbial; and it shows something of a degenerate spirit not to keep up its glories. There is an unfortunate race, who labour under a constant pyrophobia, or dread of fire, and who cannot bear the sight of it, or even the feel, except from a distance, or through a screen. When we have to do with such, we must compromise as well as we can between comfort and consideration; but I am speaking to the real enjoyers of the goods of life, without any morbid infirmity about them. A bright, lively fire I reckon a most excellent dinner companion, and in proper fire weather I would always have it, if I may so say, one of the party. For instance, two or three at each side of the table, one at the top, and the fire at the bottom, with the lights on the mantelpiece; but then, to have this disposition in perfection, the room should be something after the plan I have recommended in my seventeenth number. Under such circumstances, I think if melancholy herself were one of the guests, she could not but forget her state. A fire is an auxiliary at dinner, which diffuses its genial influence, without causing distraction. As Shakspeare says of beauty, "it is the sun that maketh all things shine;" and as Dryden sings after Horace, "With well-heap'd logs dissolve the cold, It may be supposed, from the way in which the fire is ordinarily treated during dinner, that it was a disagreeable object, or a common enemy. One or more persons are made to turn their backs upon it, and in that position screens are obliged to be added to prevent fainting. This is a perverse mode of proceeding, arising partly from the ill adaptation of dining-rooms to their use, partly from the custom of crowding tables, and partly from the risk of oppressiveness, where there are large numbers and overloaded dinners, so that in this, as in most instances, one abuse engenders another, and the expediency of adhering to a rational system is clearly manifested. We are the creatures of habit, and too seldom think of changing according to circumstances; it was but the other day I dined where the top of the table was unoccupied; but though the weather was cold and wet, the master of the house maintained his position at the bottom with his back to the fire, protected by a screen. If I could have wheeled him round," the winter of my discontent" would have been made "glorious summer," and I should have dined with complete satisfaction. The conservancy of fires ought principally to fall within the superintendence of the female part of a family, because they are least seldom out of the way, and it is a subject of very great importance in the maintenance of domestic comfort, especially where the males, either from pleasure or business, are exposed to the vicissitudes of weather. Let any one call to mind the difference between two houses where good and bad fires are kept. To the labouring classes a good fire at meals is the greatest source of health and enjoyment; and at public-houses a cheerful blaze seen through the windows, is a bait well understood to catch the labourer returning from his work to a comfortless home. If he once gets -"planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely," there is no chance of his quitting, till, like Tam O'Shanter, he is compelled by necessity. The essential quality of a fire is to be bright without being too hot, and the best and quickest mode of restoring a neglected fire is to stir out the ashes, and with the tongs to fill up the spaces between the bars with cinders. If carefully done, it is surprising how soon this process will produce an effective and glowing fire. Whilst I was writing the above, a friend of mine called to propose that we should dine together at the Athenæum, and he would send a brace of grouse he had just received. We dined very satisfactorily, but agreed that a perfect edition of our dinner would have been as follows:-First, a dozen and a half of small oysters, not pampered, but fresh from their native bed, eaten simply, after the French fashion, with lemon juice, to give an edge to the appetite. In about twenty minutes, the time necessary for dressing them, three fine flounders water-zoutchied, with brown bread-and-butter-a dish which is better served at the Athenæum than anywhere I know. At a short interval after the flounders, the grouse, not sent up together, but one after the other, hot and hot, like mutton chops, each accompanied by a plate of French beans. With the flounders half-a-pint of sherry, and with the grouse a bottle of genuine claret, which we get for three-and-sixpence a bottle; after which, a cup each of strong hot coffee. This is a style of dining, which made us think of the gorgeous, encumbered style with pity and contempt, and I give these particulars by way of study, and as a step towards emancipation. After my desultory manner I must here mention an instance of barbaric ornament I witnessed a short time since at a dinner which, substantially, was excellent. I had to carve a tongue, and found my operations somewhat impeded by a couple of ranunculuses stuck into it, sculptured, one in turnips, and the other in carrot. It was surrounded by a thin layer of spinach, studded with small stars, also cut in carrot. What have ranunculuses and stars to do with tongue and spinach? To my mind, if they had been on separate and neighbouring dishes, and unadorned, it would have been much more to the purpose. At length I am come to the consideration of that important accompaniment to dinner-wine, in the management of which there is ordinarily a lamentable want of judgment, or rather a total absence of it. Besides an actual want of judgment, there is frequently a parsimonious calculation on the one hand, or au ostentatious profusion and mixture on the other, both destructive, in their different ways, of true enjoyment. The art in using wine is to produce the greatest possible quantity of present gladness, without any future depression. To this end, a certain degree of simplicity is essential, with due attention to seasons and kinds of food, and particularly to the rate of filling the glass. Too many sorts of wines confuse the palate and derange digestion. The stronger wines, unless very sparingly used, are apt to heat in hot weather, and the smaller kinds are unsatisfactory when it is cold. The rate at which to take wine is a matter of great nicety and importance, and depends upon different circumstances at different times. Care and observation can alone enable any one to succeed in this point. The same quantity of wine, drunk judiciously or injudiciously, will produce the best or the worst effects. Drinking too quick is much more to be avoided than drinking too slow. The former is positively, the latter negatively, evil. Drinking too quick confuses both the stomach and the brain; drinking too slow disappoints them. After long fasting, begin slowly and after a solid foundation, and quicken by degrees. After exhaustion from other causes than fasting, reverse this order. Small wines may be drunk with less caution as to rate than the fuller bodied. As soon as the spirits are a little raised, slacken the pace, contrary to the usual practice, which is to quicken it. When the proper point of elevation is attained, so use the glass as just to keep there, whereby enjoyment is prolonged without alloy. The moment the palate begins to pall, leave off. Continuation after that will often produce a renewed desire, the gratification of which is pernicious. This state is rather an unfitness for leaving off than a fitness for going on. In respect to simplicity, I think four kinds of wine the very utmost ever to be taken at one time, and with observance of what wines go well together; as sherry, champagne, port, and claret; but they should be drunk in uniform order, and not first one and then another, and then back again, which is a senseless and pernicious confusion. For my own part, I rather like one kind of wine at a time, or at most two; and I think more is lost than gained by variety. I should lay down the same rules as to wines, as I have already done as to meats; that is, simplicity on the same day, and variety on different days. Port only, taken with or without a little water, at dinner, is excellent; and the same of claret. I think, on ordinary occasions, such a system is by far the most agreeable. Claret, I mean genuine, undoctored claret, which, in my opinion, is the true taste, is particularly good as a dinner wine, and is now to be had at a very reasonable price. I would not wish better than that given at the Athenæum at three-andsixpence a bottle. Rhenish wines are very wholesome and agreeable, drunk simply without other wines: I do not think they harmonize well with champagne. As to seasons, the distinction is obvious that light wines are the best in summer: but then care should be taken, for the sake of health, that they are sound; and with much fruit, perhaps, a little of stronger wine is advisable. In winter, generous wine is to be preferred, and it is a pleasant variety to have it occasionally spiced or mulled, especially in very dreary weather, or after severe exposure. In hot weather, beverages of various kinds, having wine for their foundation, and well iced, are very grateful. There is scarcely any luxury greater in summer than wine and water, cooled with a lump of ice put into it, though it is seldom practised in this country. In Italy, a plate of pure ice is regularly served during the hot season. In England, unfortunately, a great deal of money is wasted on excess, whilst simple luxuries are almost altogether neglected. The adaptation of wines to different kinds of food is a matter not to be neglected. The general rule is, to drink white wine with white meats, and red with brown, to which may be added, that light wines are most suitable to light dishes, or to the French style, and the stronger to substantial dishes, or the English style; but this latter rule has many exceptions. I must not here pass over altogether the excellencies of malt liquor, though it is rather difficult to unite the use of it judiciously with that of wine. When taken together, it should be in great moderation, but I rather prefer a malt-liquor day exclusively now and then, by way of variety, or to take it at luncheon. There is something extremely grateful in the very best tablebeer, and it is to be lamented it is so rarely to be met with in the perfection of which it is capable. That beverage at dinner, and two or three glasses of first-rate ale after, constitute real |