higher class of wine, and in a more perfect state than the sparkling; but it is almost as difficult to compare the two, as it would be to compare champagne with port. Still champagne is suitable to a grave party, talking over matters of state. But the sparkling is much better adapted to give brilliancy and joyousness, and for that purpose I believe would be preferred by almost everybody. Its very appearance is inspiring. In wines there is about the same difference between these two, that in poetry exists between Paradise Lost' and 'The Rape of the Lock.' When sparkling champagne is opened the cork should not fly out as from a bottle of soda water; when it does, it marks that the wine is in too crude a state, and has not been sufficiently fermented. I think its good qualities are the most effective when it is somewhat more active than merely creaming; when it has a certain liveliness, combined with flavour and coldness, which makes it, according to my taste, delightfully grateful. I believe I am now come to the end of the observations I had to make upon the use of champagne. I will here supply a slight omission in the proper place on the subject of desserts. I have stated that I was no great friend to them, but I must mention that the most eligible mode I ever saw of serving them was by grouping the fruit upon a low wooden plateau, which was placed in the middle of the table. It was the least trouble in setting on, it left the greatest space, and had the richest and most tasteful appearance. I doubt whether after dinner is a proper time to serve ice, that is, if dinners are arranged, as I have recommended in a former number, according to the season. I am rather inclined to think that ice would be better alone, and later in the evening. It certainly spoils the palate for a time for wine, and is principally grateful, before the dessert, in counteracting the heating and oppressive effects of overgrown repasts.

My next topic is the means of limiting dinners to small parties, and the effect of such limit on carrying on society in the most convenient and agreeable manner. The apparent impediments to small parties are large families and numerous acquaintance. I shall here assume that small parties are the most desirable, if attainable, and that the system I advocate of moderate repasts, whether simple as to the number of dishes, or varied, and totally free from state and ostentation, is the best. In such a system the trouble of cooking and serving would be much less than in the present mode of entertaining company, and the whole business less complicated and anxious, and, as far as acquaintance are concerned, one party might be divided into two without any increase of household care, but the reverse. If it is considered necessary to have a numerous company on the same day, I

should think it advisable to divide them into two or more tables; because, as it is impossible there should be an unity of party at a table above a certain size, there is the best chance of it by such divisions as may each secure an unity. By an unity I mean where there is general conversation only, instead of particular or partial. It is absurd to call that one party which is broken into many, but which sits at one table. Sociability would be much promoted by at once forming it into divisions at different tables. I have heard of this being practised at ball-suppers with the greatest success, and I do not see why there should not be equal success at dinners. It is always to be borne in mind that setting out a dinner-table is a far less operose business, according to my doctrines, than according to prevailing custom, and that setting out and serving two tables for eight persons each, would not be so much trouble as it now is to set out and serve one table for sixteen; whereas, in the former case, there would be two agreeable parties, instead of one dull one in the latter. The same principle applies most strongly where there is a large family. Division of tables on occasion of entertaining company would then in my opinion be particularly convenient and advantageous; and I should think that often dinners at different hours of the day, according to the avocations or inclinations of a large family, and their intimacies, would greatly promote its well-being. It might suit some to dine at one hour and some at another, and to entertain their particular friends in an easy way, with a reunion of the whole in the evening, when numbers may meet advantageously. A free, simple style of living would admit of this without difficulty. Suppose, for instance, one part of a large family dining at four o'clock, with or without any strangers, and another at seven, according to their previous arrangements, and all meeting in the drawing room, or disposing of themselves according to their different pursuits. One of the great advantages of a simple, stateless style of living is, that it admits of so much liberty in various ways, and allows of many enjoyments which the cumbrous style totally prevents. I think it would be the perfection of society if there were a constant current of small dinner-parties for the purpose of enjoyment only, and a general mixing up on easy terms in the evening, according to each person's circle of acquaintance. I have heard people say that they have tried to get evening society, according to the French manner of droppers-in, but that they have never been able to succeed. The truth is, that no individual, or small number of individuals, will ever make such a plan succeed for long together. It must be the general custom in order to have permanent and complete success. I have frequented houses in that way at

times, but always found it more irksome than agreeable, simply from the uncertainty of finding the inmates at home, and the repeated disappointments of finding them out. These objections would vanish if the custom of receiving in an evening were general, because if one family was not at home, another would be, and a person in search of society would be sure to find it somewhere, instead of returning unsuccessful. It is an annoyance to prepare, and make up one's mind, for society, and then not to meet with it. The temptation to remain at home is too strong to venture upon a speculation, where there are so many chances against success. But if any one had a number of acquaintances in the same quarter, who received in an evening, an inclination for society might always be gratified with sufficient certainty to induce the attempt. Some visible sign, indicating whether they received at any house on any given evening, or whether the number was full, would save trouble to visiters, and would ensure complete privacy, whenever desired, or society to the extent desired, and not beyond. It would be a great improvement in the world, and a great advantage to the rich, if they would spend that portion of their means, which they dedicate to social intercourse, in procuring real enjoyment for their visitants, rather than in that state and display, for which no reasonable person cares, or which, it may be more truly said, every reasonable person dislikes and despises. If, for instance, a rich man were to give simply excellent dinners, and provide his guests with accommodation at places of public amusement, he would give them more satisfaction than by inviting them to the most sumptuous entertainments, and would most likely much increase his own enjoyment. Such a practice would tend greatly to improve public amusements, and would add to their interest by giving brilliancy to the scene. There are many ways in which those who have a command of means, have opportunities of rendering social intercourse with them peculiarly advantageous and interesting to persons of smaller fortunes; but as it is, in general, the richer the host the duller the entertainment, principally because expense is lavished in the wrong direction, without taste, or invention, or rational end.

In order to make a dinner go off well, a good deal often depends upon the giver's mode of receiving his company. In the first place, he should always be ready; he should receive cordially, so as to let his guests feel inspired by an air of welcome; and he should set them well off together by the introduction of suitable topics. It is usually seen that the host receives his guests almost as if they were strangers to him, and, after a word or two, leaves them to manage for themselves as well as

they can, by wandering about, or turning over books, or some resource of that sort, if they happen not to be well known to some of the company; and even persons who are in the habit of meeting, often seem to be actuated by a feeling of mutual reserve, for want of being well started by the host. It frequently requires some time after the dinner has commenced, to take off the chill of the first assembling, and in respect to individuals, it sometimes never is taken off during the whole party. During dinner it is expedient for the head of the feast to keep his eye upon every thing around him, and not to occupy himself exclusively, as many do, with those immediately near, or, what is worse, to sink into fits of abstraction or anxiety. The alacrity and general attention of the host furnish the spring from which the guests usually take their tone, and where they are not well known to each other, it is good to address each frequently by name, and to mention subjects on which they have some common interest. There is also much tact required in calling into play diffident or reserved merit, and in preventing too much individual monopoly of conversation, however good. In order to have perfect success, the guests must be capable of being well mixed up together, and the host must be capable of mixing them, which unfortunately few are; but many are much more capable than they appear to be, if they would turn their attention to the subject. These latter observations are more applicable to large parties than to small ones, but they do apply to both.

I have now come to the conclusion of what occurs to me on the subject of Aristology, or the Art of Dining and giving dinners,' which subject the reader will perceive I have treated in the most familiar, and perhaps in too careless a way. I have written off-hand, as matter suggested itself from the stores of experience. I have always advanced what I thought to be right, without the slightest fear of being sometimes wrong; and I have given myself no thought as to exposure to ridicule, or anything else. My object is in this, as in every other subject on which I touch, to set my readers to think in the right track, and to direct them in their way as well as I can. I consider what I have said on the Art of Dining' to be a part of my observations on the Art of Health,' which subject I shall continue under the latter title in my next number.

PRIZE FIGHTS.

There was a time when pugilistic prize-fights had many advocates, and some of high authority, as tending to promote courage, manly feeling, and a love of fair play. Having long had a wish

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to judge with my own eyes of the effect of these strictly national exhibitions, I availed myself of an opportunity several years since to go to one, which promised all the advantages of high patronage and first-rate bruisers. A field, somewhere near Hounslow Heath, was selected for the scene of action. There was a great concourse of spectators, from the highest ranks, one of whom acted as timekeeper, down to the very lowest, and every variety of equipage, from the barouche-and-four to the donkey-cart. I could not help admiring the judgment and order with which everything was managed. The inner ring was appropriated to the combatants, and their seconds and bottleholders; and the outer to the principal patrons of "the Fancy," and the select, who were to lie down on the grass when the fight was actually going on. Beyond them was a circle of persons on foot, then the carriages, and, on the outside of all, the trees were filled with spectators, so that the greatest possible number could see without obstruction. When everything was arranged, and the combatants were preparing, two magistrates, attended by only a couple of constables, made their appearance, and entered into a conference with the chief manager, during which there was perfect peace, though a manifestation of great anxiety. The conference ended in the magistrates and their officers retiring; and then the manager gave a signal for dispersion, which was instantly obeyed. Whatever disgrace boxing-matches may be thought to reflect on our national character, I thought this movement a proud testimonial the other way, as being a stronger instance than I could have conceived, of prompt obedience to the laws, and of respect to authority; and I do not believe the like would have been exhibited in any other country in the world. There was every motive to excite resistance. All had paid, and rather dearly, for admission into the field; they had had the trouble of finding themselves situations, for which some had paid a further sum; there was great force on one side, and, comparatively, none on the other; there were some men who might think themselves almost above control on such occasions, and others at all times most ready to throw it off; the illegality of such assemblages was by no means universally admitted; their object had many defenders, and interference at that critical moment had somewhat the appearance of being vexatious. Yet, notwithstanding this combination of reasons, the motley multitude departed as passively as if before an overwhelming force, and, indeed, more so; for there was even no expression of disapprobation. I attribute this curious result to two causes: first, in spite of his office, to the great personal respectability and singular propriety of behaviour of the chief manager, or commander