" Thus our
little friend continued his connoisseur remarks, to give the Captain
a particular idea of his proficiency in the requisite qualities,
age, and time of keeping necessary to make the adjuncts of a supper
fit for a gentleman. "D--me! we don't know when edibles are choice,
and the Yankees are perfect brutes in these things, and have no more
taste than a cow. Our folks ought to all go to France for a year or
two, to learn the style of cooking. It's perfect murder to eat a
bird the very day after it's killed; yes, sir! no man that considers
his stomach will do it," said George.
The servant waited impatiently-the Captain rubbed his eyes, and
began to pour out a glass of water; and dryly said he'd no choice,
which was responded to by the rest. It was left to Master George,
and he ordered a bountiful supply of grouse, partridges, oyster, and
champagne of his favourite brand-none other. There was also a
billiard-room, reading-room, a room for more important gambling, and
a bar-room, up-stairs. All these were well filled with very well-
dressed and very noisy people; the latter being a very convenient
place, the party sent to it for tipplers to fill up time.
"This is but a small portion of what constitutes life in Charleston,
Captain. We live for living's sake, and don't stand upon those
blueskin theories of temperance and religion that Yankees do, and
blame the Father of generations for not making the world better.
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