The Dinner Table Talk.

Now soup, if you like made of beef very nice,
You'll find this the next thing to the height of perfection;
And eaten with ketchup, or thickened with rice,
Will suit you I know, if this is your selection.

My own disposition to this one inclines,
But dreadful dyspepsia destroys all the pleasure
Of dinner, except it's well tinctured with wines
Which plan I adopt as a health-giving measure.

A table well ordered, well furnished, and neat,
No wonder our nature for ever is tempting;
And I'd like to know if Mahomet could beat
Its pleasures--dyspepsia for ever exempting--
With all that he promised in paradise gained,
With Houris attendant in place of the churls
With which we are worried, tormented, and pained--
The colored men servants, or green Irish girls.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Horatio Alger, Jr. was a prolific 19th-century American author, best known for his many young adult novels about impoverished boys who rise from humble backgrounds to lives of middle-class security and comfort through hard work, determination, courage, and honesty. His works, which typically feature a rags-to-riches narrative, were immensely popular and instilled the American Dream ideal. Alger's stories were a reflection of the societal values of his time. However, despite his success as a writer, he lived a rather modest life and never married.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle Ordereth The Second Course.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

Rose In The Garden.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

Apple-Blossoms.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of Hygiene And Fish Sauce.

Horatio Alger, Jr., Simple Poetry

English

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The Dinner-bell Rings.

Mrs. Merdle Describes the Sufferings of Dyspepsia and its Remedy.

But come, now, I hear by the sound of the ringing
That dinner is ready; and time none to spare
To finish our eating in time for the singing
At Niblo's; or at Burton's drop in for a stare.

To 'kill time' the object, whatever the source is,
And that is the reason we sit at the table
And call for our dinner in slow-coming courses,
To kill, while we eat, all the time we are able.

Though little, I told you, that's worthy your taste
You'll find on our table, pray don't think us mean--
Your welcome is ample--that's better than waste--
Oh! here comes the soup in a silver tureen--
'Tis mock turtle too--so good for digestion:
That kills me by inches, the wretched complaint
Dyspepsia--to cure ...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Things That Mortals Eat There.

And what do you eat in the mess there compounded?
For roast beef, the gravy the soap-man should claim--
The soup some odd things might turn up if sounded,
And other "made-dishes" might turn up the same.

Decoctions that puzzle your chemical skill,
You get if you call either coffee or tea;
And milk that is made with and tastes of the swill,
As like milk, as wine is that often we see
Is like to the juice of the grape in perfection,
Or like as the candidate after election
Is like the fair thing that we hoped or expected
Before the base thief was exposed or detected;
As like truth and virtue--and more is the pity--
The men we elected to rule our own city.

In "council" while sitting, though "common" we call them,
In common opinion, if people at large
Are...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

How The Author Sometimes Dines.

And now by your leave I will try to expound it,
In truth as it is and the way that I found it.

My dinner, sometimes, like things transcendental
And things more substantial, like women and wine
A thing is, uncertain, and quite accidental,
And sometimes I wonder, "Oh! where shall I dine?"

It was when reflecting one evening of late,
What tavern or hotel or dining-room skinner,
With table cloth dirty and dirtier plate,
Would give me a nausea and call it a dinner,
I met with Jack Merdle, a name fully known
As good for a million in Stock-gamblers' Street,
Where none but a nabob or forger high flown
With "bulls" or with "bears" need look for a seat.

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of Pudding.

A pudding! why yes, as I live, too, it's plum;
So plain, Susan makes them on purpose for me
I never refuse, when the plum puddings come,
To finish my dinner, if finished 't can be
On things unsubstantial, like puddings and pies,
So made up of suet, and currants, and flour,
Like this one before us, to get up the size,
And stirred up and beaten with eggs by the hour,
With bread crumbs, and citron, and small piece of mace;
With nutmeg, and cinnamon, and sugar, and milk,
And" currants, and raisins, and spices so race,
And what else I know not of things of that ilk.

The whole after cooking six hours at the least,
When thus well compounded with delicate skill,
With wine sauce is eaten, to finish the feast,
And suits the digestion of ladies quite ill,
Who suffe...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of Hygiene And Fish Sauce.

But this is concocted by rules so complete;
Though piquant, is healthy and easy digested;
And if you will note it as slowly we eat,
The contents I'll give for our friends interested.

Imprimus: in fish stock, an onion we stew,
And anchovy essence two spoonfuls we add;
With butter, horse-radish, and lemons a few;
Mushrooms, too, in ketchup is not very bad;
And pickle of walnuts with onions chopped fine,
To which there is added some old sherry wine.

My doctor, so queer, when I suffer distress,
Inquires what I've latterly foolishly eaten,
And swears that to swallow this 'horrible mess,'
Would entitle a dog like a dog to be beaten.

But la! such a doctor knows nothing of women's complaints,
And talks Latin nonsense about 'regular diet;'
And thinks ...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

Mrs. Merdle Discourseth Of The Necessity Of Good Wine And Other Matters.

So while we are eating the fruits of the vine,
Don't let us forget such a health giving juice,
As Champagne, or Sherbet, or other good wine,
Nor sin by neglecting its 'temperate use.'

Now Sherbet, my husband extols to the skies,
With me though, my stomach is weak and won't bear it:
And Sherry, though sometimes affecting my eyes,
A bottle with pleasure we'll open and share it.

Ha, ha, well-a-day--what a queer world to live in,
If one were contented on little to dine,
We need not be longing another to be in,
Where women, they tell us, exist without wine;
Where husbands are happy and women content;
Where dresses, though gauzy, are fit for the street;
Where no one is wretched with purses unbent,
With nothing to wear and nothing to eat.

Where wome...

Horatio Alger, Jr.