Moreover, it is now possible in certain London hotels for an
American to get hot bread and ice-water at breakfast, though the
English round about look on with undisguised horror as he consumes
them, and the manager only hopes that he will have the good taste
not to die on the premises.
It is true that, in lieu of the fresh fruit an American prefers,
the waiter brings at least three kinds of particularly sticky
marmalade and, in accordance with a custom that dates back to the
time of the Druids, spangles the breakfast cloth over with a large
number of empty saucers and plates, which fulfill no earthly purpose
except to keep getting in the way. The English breakfast bacon,
however, is a most worthy article, and the broiled kipper is juicy
and plump, and does not resemble a dried autumn leaf, as our kipper
often does. And the fried sole, on which the Englishman banks his
breakfast hopes, invariably repays one for one's undivided attention.
The English boast of their fish; but, excusing the kipper, they
have but three of note--the turbot, the plaice and the sole. And
the turbot tastes like turbot, and the plaice tastes like fish;
but the sole, when fried, is most appetizing.
I have been present when the English gooseberry and the English
strawberry were very highly spoken of, too, but with me this is
merely hearsay evidence; we reached England too late for berries.
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