No. 1.
Did you ever try to eat a peach elegantly and gracefully? Of course
you have. Show me a man who has not tried the experiment, when under
the restraint of human surveillance, and I shall look upon him as a
curiosity. There is no fruit, certainly, which has so fair and
alluring an exterior; but few content themselves with feasting their
eyes upon it. How fresh and ripe it looks as it lies upon the plate,
with its rosy cheek turned temptingly upward! How cool and soft is the
downy skin to the touch! And the fragrance, so suggestive of its rich,
delicious flavor, who can resist? Ah, unhappy wight! Bitterly you
shall repent your rashness. Any other fruit can be eaten with
comparative ease and politeness; a peach was evidently intended only
to be looked at, or enjoyed beneath your own tree, where no eye may
watch and criticize your motions.
I see you, in imagination, at a party, standing in the middle of the
room, plate in hand, regarding your peach as if it were some great
natural curiosity. A sudden jog of your elbow compels you to a
succession of most dexterous balancings as your heavy peach rolls from
side to side, knocks down your knife, and threatens to plunge after it
when you stoop to regain it. You look distractedly round for a table,
but all are occupied. Even the corner of the mantel-shelf holds a
plate, and you enviously see the owner thereof leaning carelessly
against the chimney, and looking placidly round upon his less
fortunate companions. You glance at the different groups to see if any
one else is in your most unenviable predicament. Ah, yes! Yonder
stands a gentleman worse off yet, for, in addition to your
perplexities, he is talking with a young, laughing girl, who is
watching his movements, with a merry twinkle in her bright eyes. He
evidently wishes to astonish her by his dexterity, and disappoint her
roguish expectations. He holds his plate firmly in his left hand, and
proceeds, at once, to cut his peach in halves. Deuce take the blunt
silver knife! The tough skin resists its pressure. The knife and plate
clash loudly together; the peach is bounding and rolling at the very
feet of the young lady, who is in an ecstasy of laughter. Ah! she
herself has no small resemblance to a peach, fair, beautiful, and
attractive without, and, I sadly fear, with a hard heart beneath.
Are you yet more miserable than before? Turn then to yonder
sober-looking gentleman, who certainly seems sufficiently composed to
perform the difficult manoeuvre. He has the advantage of a table to be
sure; but that is not every thing. He begins right, by deliberately
removing the woolly skin. Now he lays the slippery peach in his plate,
and makes a plunge at it with his knife. A sharp, prolonged screech
across his plate salutes the ears of all the bystanders, and a fine
slice of juicy pulp is flung unceremoniously into the face of the
gentleman opposite, who certainly does not look very grateful for the
unexpected gift.
Every one, of course, has seen the awkward accident. O no! That
pretty, animated girl upon the sofa is much too pleasantly engaged,
that is evident, to be watching her neighbors. Playing carelessly with
her fan, and casting many sparkling glances upward at the two
gentlemen who are vying with each other in their gallant attentions,
she has enough to do without noticing other people. She is happily
unconscious of the mortification which is in store for her, or
wilfully shuts her eyes to the peril. Alas! Her hand is resting, even
now, upon the destroyer of all her present enjoyment, the beautiful,
fragrant, treacherous peach. With a nonchalance really shocking to the
anxious beholder, she raises it, and breaks it open, talking the
while, and scarcely bestowing a thought upon what she is about.
Dexterously done; but--O luckless maiden!--the fruit is ripe, and
rich, and juicy, and the running drops fall, not into her plate, but
upon the delicate folds of her dress.
The merry repartee dies away upon her lips, as she becomes conscious
of the catastrophe. It is with a forced smile that she declares, "It
is nothing; O, not of the slightest consequence!" That unlucky peach!
How many blunders, how many pauses, how many absent-minded remarks it
occasions! She makes the most frenzied attempts to regain her former
gayety, but in vain. Her gloves are stained and sticky with the
flowing juice, and she is oppressed by the conviction that all her
partners for the rest of the evening will hate her most heartily. An
expression of real vexation steals over her pretty face, and she gives
up her plate to one of the attendant beaux, with not so much as a wish
that he will return to her. Where are the arch smiles, the lively
tones, the quick and ready responses now? Her spirit is quenched. Her
manner has become subdued, depressed,--shall I say it?--yes, even
sulky.
Ah! I see your courage will not brave laughter. You steal to the
table, half ashamed of yourself as you set down your untasted peach.
Your sudden zeal to relieve those ladies of their plates serves as a
very good excuse for the relinquishment of your own. You have rescued
yourself very well from your dilemma this time. Remember my advice for
the future. Never accept a peach in company.