Verily, the thought must often occur that the vegetarian doctrine
preached in America leaves a man quite as much as he has capacity to
eat or enjoy, and that in the midst of such tantalizing abundance he
has really lost the apology, which elsewhere bears him out in preying
upon his less gifted and accomplished animal neighbors.
But with all this, the American table, taken as a whole, is inferior
to that of England or France. It presents a fine abundance of material,
carelessly and poorly treated. The management of food is nowhere in
the world, perhaps, more slovenly and wasteful. Every thing betokens
that want of care that waits on abundance; there are great capabilities
and poor execution. A tourist through England can seldom fail, at the
quietest country-inn, of finding himself served with the essentials
of English table-comfort--his mutton-chop done to a turn, his steaming
little private apparatus for concocting his own tea, his choice pot
of marmalade or slice of cold ham, and his delicate rolls and creamy
butter, all served with care and neatness. In France, one never asks
in vain for delicious _cafe-au-lait_, good bread and butter, a
nice omelet, or some savory little portion of meat with a French name.
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