Dinner here is a stern bit of the day's work, to be discharged
with a serious fortitude.
We have described how we eat, but said nothing yet of what was eaten. Yet
our practical narrative cannot ignore the matter. Certain delicate
subjects, however, are best treated dialectically, and perhaps we could
not here do better than record a dialogue which we think we must have
overheard between Grumbler and Cheerful, two dramatic characters not
unknown to readers of the School Magazine some year ago:
_Cheer_. Have you read that jolly letter in _The Times_, on
"Uppingham by the Sea?"
_Grumb_. Yes, I have; and the writer says, "The commissariat was on
the whole good." I must say that surprises me.
_Cheer_. Why where was it at fault, then?
_Grumb_. Where? It was at fault all round. Look at the
puddings--everlastingly smoked!
_Cheer_. Yes; but the commissariat is not puddings.
_Grumb_. Well then, the coals--all chips and small dust; at least,
when there _were_ any.
_Cheer_. But the commissariat is not coals.
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