I would have them all to
myself, and drain them to the last drop: they will do to talk of or to
write about afterwards. What a delicate speculation it is, after
drinking whole goblets of tea,
"The cups that cheer, but not inebriate,"
and letting the fumes ascend into the brain, to sit considering what we
shall have for supper--eggs and a rasher, a rabbit smothered in onions,
or an excellent veal-cutlet! Sancho[30] in such a situation once fixed
upon cow-heel; and his choice, though he could not help it, is not to be
disparaged. Then in the intervals of pictured scenery and Shandean
contemplation, to catch the preparation and the stir in the
kitchen--_Procul, O procul este profani!_[31] These hours are sacred to
silence and to musing, to be treasured up in the memory, and to feed the
source of smiling thoughts hereafter. I would not waste them in idle
talk; or if I must have the integrity of fancy broken in upon, I would
rather it were by a stranger than a friend. A stranger takes his hue and
character from the time and place; he is a part of the furniture and
costume of an inn.
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