Their neighbors, envious at seeing the despised French indulging
daily in savory dishes, unknown to English palates, and tempted
like "Jack's" giant by the smell of "fresh meat," began to inquire
into the matter, and slowly realized how, in their ignorance, they
had been throwing away succulent and delicate food. The news of
this discovery gradually spreading through all classes, "ox-tail"
became and has remained the national English soup.
If this veracious tale could be twisted into a metaphor, it would
serve marvellously to illustrate the position of the entire Anglo-
Saxon race, and especially that of their American descendants as
regards the Latin peoples. For foolish prodigality and reckless,
ignorant extravagance, however, we leave our English cousins far
behind.
Two American hotels come to my mind, as different in their
appearance and management as they are geographically asunder. Both
are types and illustrations of the wilful waste that has recently
excited Mr. Ian Maclaren's comment, and the woeful want (of good
food) that is the result. At one, a dreary shingle construction on
a treeless island, off our New England coast, where the ideas of
the landlord and his guests have remained as unchanged and
primitive as the island itself, I found on inquiry that all
articles of food coming from the first table were thrown into the
sea; and I have myself seen chickens hardly touched, rounds of
beef, trays of vegetables, and every variety of cake and dessert
tossed to the fish.
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