As food is a pleasant topic, perhaps I may be pardoned if I dwell fondly upon these three red-letter days in my memory.
One was in Paris.

The night that we started for Africa a merry little company dined at Henry's.

That distinguished master was given _carte blanche_ to get up the best dinner known to culinary science, and he had a day's start.

Everything was delicious.

The dinner was a symphony, starting in a low key and gradually working up in a stirring crescendo until the third course, where it reached supreme heights in climacteric effect.