Sup on dainty calf-foot jelly, Never sleep with well-filled belly; Sup upon the lightest food, Rice; or anything that’s good. Mind you never eat cold meat! If you’d sleep, that is no treat! The nightmare black you’ll have, be sure! But suppers light are just the cure.
But great was the aunt’s dismay on finding a duck and green peas brought to the table. She resolved, however, even on this fare, to show her superior Devonshire breeding; and while the young ladies lifted their peas from their plates to their mouths in half-dozens or more at a time, she, delicate soul, cut every pea in four, and swallowed a quarter at a time!
Another circumstance of note happened at this supper, which, as it relates to our hero, must be told. It seems that during Twm’s disgrace, and consequent absence from the hall, the servants there indulged themselves in making remarks on his conduct, and its probable consequence. This discussion displayed their various dispositions. Some spoke of him with charity, and dwelt upon his rare qualities of good nature and cheerfulness; while others took a malignant pleasure in speaking of his satirical and mischievous propensities. Among the latter was the cook. Twm, on his return, heard of her _kindness_, and determined to take the first opportunity of showing his sense of the obligations she had laid him under. On the removal of the remains of the duck and its accompaniments, the company having just been helped round with tart or pie, their attention was suddenly arrested by the voice of Twm in the passage, who loudly sung the following distich:—
“Apple pie is very rich, And so is venison pasty; But then our cook has got the itch, And that is very nasty.”
Ye gods! what sounds for ears polite! The young ladies laughed immoderately on perceiving the distress of their aunt, who showed a wry-faced consciousness of having partaken food prepared by unclean hands; her countenance underwent various contortions, and she mentally thought of the old proverb about the obligatory rule set down upon each member of humanity, that we must all eat a peck of dirt in our lifetime, but she devoutly hoped that all her share was not to be eaten at one meal. Those awful thoughts had a tragic ending, for they terminated in the grand climax of a shriek and a fit. The squire’s anger was instantly kindled against Twm, probably from an unquenched spark of his former resentment, which he evinced by telling his son to “give that rascal a good thrashing.”