with the said article on his arm, and having deposited her in the seat nearly opposite mine, at a knowing wink from him, a second steward sounded another bell, and the men dropped into their seats like magic.  Soup having been already served, the spoons rattled away furiously.  I was wondering who the lady—­all females are ladies here—­could be, for whom we had been so long waiting, and who had eventually come in with the steward, or gentleman—­all men are gentlemen here—­in so friendly a manner.  She did not appear burdened with any refined manners, but, judge of my astonishment when, after she had got quit of her soup-plate and was waiting for her next helping, I observed the lady poking the point of her knife into a sweet dish near her, and sucking off the precious morsel she had captured, which interesting operation she kept repeating till her roast turkey arrived.  There was an air of such perfect innocence about her, as she was employed in the sucking process, that you could not help feeling she was unconscious any eye fixed upon her could find her occupation offensive or extraordinary.

A gentleman seated near me next attracted my attention.  They had helped him to a piece of meat the size and shape of a Holborn-hill paving-stone.  How insulted he must be at having his plate filled in that way.  Look! look! how he seizes vegetable after vegetable, building his plate all round, like a fortification, the junk of beef in the middle forming the citadel.  It would have taken Napoleon a whole day to have captured such a fortress; but, remember, poor Napoleon did not belong to the nation that can “whip creation.”  See how Jonathan batters down bastion after bastion!  Now he stops!—­his piercing eye scrutinizes around!—­a pie is seen!  With raised body and lengthened arm, he pounces on it, and drags it under the guns of his fortress.  Knives and forks are scarce—­his own will do very well.  A breach is made—­the pastry parapet is thrown at the foot of the half-demolished citadel; spoons are not at hand, the knife plunges into the abyss, the fork follows—­’tis a chicken pie—­pillage ensues; all the white meat is captured, the dish is raised on high, from the horizontal it is turned to the “slantindicular,” and the citadel is deluged in the shower.  “Catch who can,” is not confined to school-boys, I see.  I was curious to witness the end of this attack, and, as he had enough to occupy his ivories for half an hour—­if they did not give in before—­I turned quietly to my own affairs, and began eating my dinner; but, curiosity is impatient.  In a few minutes, I turned back to gaze on the fortress.  By Jupiter Tonans! the plate lay before him, clean as if a cat had licked it; and, having succeeded in capturing another plate, he was organizing on this new plateau various battalions of sweets, for which he skirmished around with incomparable skill.

The parade-ground being full, I expected to see an instant attack; but he was too knowing to be caught napping in that way.  He looked around, and with a masterly eye scanned apples, oranges, and nuts.  The two former he selected with great judgment; the latter he brought home in quantities sufficient to secure plenty of good ones.  Then pouncing upon a pair of nutcrackers, and extending them like a chevaux-de-frise round his prizes, he began his onslaught upon the battalion of sweets before him.