Vanity Fair - Page 62/573

"Mouton aux navets," added the butler gravely (pronounce, if you

please, moutongonavvy); "and the soup is potage de mouton a

l'Ecossaise. The side-dishes contain pommes de terre au naturel, and

choufleur a l'eau."

"Mutton's mutton," said the Baronet, "and a devilish good thing. What

SHIP was it, Horrocks, and when did you kill?" "One of the black-faced

Scotch, Sir Pitt: we killed on Thursday.

"Who took any?"

"Steel, of Mudbury, took the saddle and two legs, Sir Pitt; but he says

the last was too young and confounded woolly, Sir Pitt."

"Will you take some potage, Miss ah--Miss Blunt? said Mr. Crawley.

"Capital Scotch broth, my dear," said Sir Pitt, "though they call it by

a French name."

"I believe it is the custom, sir, in decent society," said Mr. Crawley,

haughtily, "to call the dish as I have called it"; and it was served to

us on silver soup plates by the footmen in the canary coats, with the

mouton aux navets. Then "ale and water" were brought, and served to us

young ladies in wine-glasses. I am not a judge of ale, but I can say

with a clear conscience I prefer water.

While we were enjoying our repast, Sir Pitt took occasion to ask what

had become of the shoulders of the mutton.

"I believe they were eaten in the servants' hall," said my lady, humbly.

"They was, my lady," said Horrocks, "and precious little else we get

there neither."

Sir Pitt burst into a horse-laugh, and continued his conversation with

Mr. Horrocks. "That there little black pig of the Kent sow's breed

must be uncommon fat now."

"It's not quite busting, Sir Pitt," said the butler with the gravest

air, at which Sir Pitt, and with him the young ladies, this time, began

to laugh violently.

"Miss Crawley, Miss Rose Crawley," said Mr. Crawley, "your laughter

strikes me as being exceedingly out of place."

"Never mind, my lord," said the Baronet, "we'll try the porker on

Saturday. Kill un on Saturday morning, John Horrocks. Miss Sharp

adores pork, don't you, Miss Sharp?"

And I think this is all the conversation that I remember at dinner.

When the repast was concluded a jug of hot water was placed before Sir

Pitt, with a case-bottle containing, I believe, rum. Mr. Horrocks

served myself and my pupils with three little glasses of wine, and a

bumper was poured out for my lady. When we retired, she took from her

work-drawer an enormous interminable piece of knitting; the young

ladies began to play at cribbage with a dirty pack of cards. We had

but one candle lighted, but it was in a magnificent old silver

candlestick, and after a very few questions from my lady, I had my

choice of amusement between a volume of sermons, and a pamphlet on the

corn-laws, which Mr. Crawley had been reading before dinner.