STILL PRANDIAL
What wine shall we have? I confess I am no judge of wines, except when
they are bad. To-night I feel inclined to allow my choice to be
directed by sentiment; and as we are on so pretty a pilgrimage, would
it not be appropriate to drink Liebfraumilch?
Hock is full of fancy, and all wines are by their very nature full of
reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers that are gone.
Forgive me, therefore, if I grow reminiscent. Indeed, I fear that the
hour for the story of my First Love has come. But first, notice the
waitress. I confess, whether beautiful or plain,--not too
plain,--women who earn their own living have a peculiar attraction for
me.
I hope the Golden Girl will not turn out to be a duchess. As old
Campion sings,--
"I care not for those ladies
Who must be wooed and prayed;
Give me kind Amaryllis,
The wanton country-maid."
Town-maids too of the same pattern. Whether in town or country, give me
the girls that work. The Girls That Work! But evidently it is high
time woe began a new chapter.