In Which Fists are Clenched; And of a Selfish Man, Who Was an Apostle of Peace

Conversation, though in itself a blessed and delightful thing, yet
may be sometimes out of place, and wholly impertinent. If wine is a
loosener of tongues, surely food is the greatest, pleasantest, and
most complete silencer; for what man when hunger gnaws and food is
before him--what man, at such a time, will stay to discuss the
wonders of the world, of science--or even himself?

Thus our two young travellers, with a very proper respect for the
noble fare before them, paid their homage to it in silence--but a
silence that was eloquent none the less. At length, however, each
spoke, and each with a sigh.

The Viscount. "The ham, my dear fellow--!"

Barnabas. "The beef, my dear Dick--!"

The Viscount and Barnabus. "Is beyond words."

Having said which, they relapsed again into a silence, broken only
by the occasional rattle of knife and fork.

The Viscount (hacking at the loaf). "It's a grand thing to be hungry,
my dear fellow."

Barnabas (glancing over the rim of his tankard). "When you have the
means of satisfying it--yes."

The Viscount (becoming suddenly abstracted, and turning his piece of
bread over and over in his fingers). "Now regarding--Mistress Clemency,
my dear Bev; what do you think of her?"

Barnabas (helping himself to more beef). "That she is a remarkably
handsome girl!"

The Viscount (frowning at his piece of bread). "Hum! d'you think so?"

Barnabas. "Any man would. I'll trouble you for the mustard, Dick."

The Viscount. "Yes; I suppose they would."

Barnabas. "Some probably do--especially men with an eye for fine
women."