_Arranged for the use of the returning British Passenger at
Breakfast-time. By a very Dyspeptic Contributor._
It is a glorious thing to think that one is leaving France and all
foreign kickshaws behind one, and is once more approaching dear honest
old England on the deck of a British steamer.
But let us come into the cabin and have a bit of breakfast before we
get in.
Surely that table covered with a dirty sheet instead of a tablecloth
is not prepared for our repast?
Why, this stale loaf must have been on board quite a week.
It has evidently made several passages backwards and forwards in
company with this extremely remarkable sample of butter.
Why does this coffee the Steward has just brought us look like ink and
sawdust, and taste like something perplexing?
The Frenchman, who has been expecting _dejeuner a la fourchette_, is
surveying with astonishment the dish of mutton-chops they have set
down before him.
It is a great pity that they are all two inches thick, and are
underdone when cut.
I wonder whether he is thinking, as I am, of the clean, fresh, and
trim _restaurant_ table, the excellent _cafe au lait, petits-pains_,
Normandy butter, and other "foreign kickshaws," that he has just left
behind him in France.
Though he has had to pay three shillings for his hot breakfast, he has
informed me that he will wait till he arrives, and take "_le lunch_"
on shore.
I wonder whether he is aware that, if he makes this meal at the
typical Refreshment-Room, he will have to content himself with stale
sponge-cakes, the day-before-yesterday's buns, and small tins of
lemon-drops.
But let us get out of the Cabin. I certainly prefer the deck of an
excellent steamer to the arrangements made for providing one with
breakfast down below.
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