by Peggy Edmund and Harold W. Williams, compilers
DINING
A twelve course dinner might be described as a gastronomic marathon.—John E. Rosser.
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"That was the spirit of your uncle that made that table stand, turn over, and do such queer stunts."
"I am not surprised; he never did have good table manners."
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"Chakey, Chakey," called the big sister as she stood in the doorway and looked down the street toward the group of small boys: "Chakey, come in alreaty and eat youseself. Maw she's on the table and Paw he's half et."
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There was a young lady of Cork,
Whose Pa made a fortune in pork;
He bought for his daughter
A tutor who taught her
To balance green peas on her fork.
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An anecdote about Dr. Randall Davidson, bishop of Winchester, is that after an ecclesiastical function, as the clergy were trooping in to luncheon, an unctuous archdeacon observed: "This is the time to put a bridle on our appetites!"
"Yes," replied the bishop, "this is the time to put a bit in our mouths!"—Christian Life.
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There was a young lady named Maud,
A very deceptive young fraud;
She never was able
To eat at the table,
But out in the pantry—O Lord!
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"Father's trip abroad did him so much good," said the self-made man's daughter. "He looks better, feels better, and as for appetite—honestly, it would just do your heart good to hear him eat!"
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Whistler, the artist, was one day invited to dinner at a friend's house and arrived at his destination two hours late.
"How extraordinary!" he exclaimed, as he walked into the dining-room where the company was seated at the table; "really, I should think you might have waited a bit—why, you're just like a lot of pigs with your eating!"
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A macaroon,
A cup of tea,
An afternoon,
Is all that she
Will eat;
She's in society.
But let me take
This maiden fair
To some café,
And, then and there,
She'll eat the whole
Blame bill of fare.
—The Mystic Times.
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The small daughter of the house was busily setting the tables for expected company when her mother called to her:
"Put down three forks at each place, dear."
Having made some observations on her own account when the expected guests had dined with her mother before, she inquired thoughtfully:
"Shall I give Uncle John three knives?"
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For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner—Samuel Johnson
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