At dinner, the lady maintained the same ungracious indifference,
never speaking but in whispers to her aunt; and as to the repast,
it was made up of a parcel of kickshaws, contrived by a French
cook, without one substantial article adapted to the satisfaction
of an English appetite. The pottage was little better than bread
soaked in dishwashings, lukewarm. The ragouts looked as if they
had been once eaten and half digested: the fricassees were
involved in a nasty yellow poultice: and the rotis were scorched
and stinking, for the honour of the fumet. The desert consisted
of faded fruit and iced froth, a good emblem of our landlady's
character; the table-beer was sour, the water foul, and the wine
vapid; but there was a parade of plate and china, and a powdered
lacquey stood behind every chair, except those of the master and
mistress of the house, who were served by two valets dressed like
gentlemen. We dined in a large old Gothic parlour, which was
formerly the hall. It was now paved with marble, and,
notwithstanding the fire which had been kindled about an hour,
struck me with such a chill sensation, that when I entered it the
teeth chattered in my jaws -- In short, every thing was cold,
comfortless, and disgusting, except the looks of my friend
Baynard, which declared the warmth of his affection and humanity.
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