The form then of the benediction before eating has its beauty at a poor man’s table, or at the simple and unprovocative repasts of children.  It is here that the grace becomes exceedingly graceful.  The indigent man, who hardly knows whether he shall have a meal the next day or not, sits down to his fare with a present sense of the blessing, which can be but feebly acted by the rich, into whose minds the conception of wanting a dinner could never, but by some extreme theory, have entered.  The proper end of food—­the animal sustenance—­is barely contemplated by them.  The poor man’s bread is his daily bread, literally his bread for the day.  Their courses are perennial.

Again, the plainest diet seems the fittest to be preceded by the grace.  That which is least stimulative to appetite, leaves the mind most free for foreign considerations.  A man may feel thankful, heartily thankful, over a dish of plain mutton with turnips, and have leisure to reflect upon the ordinance and institution of eating; when he shall confess a perturbation o f mind, inconsistent with the purposes of the grace, at the presence of venison or turtle.  When I have sate (a rarus hospes) at rich men’s tables, with the savoury soup and messes steaming up the nostrils, and moistening the lips of the guests with desire and a distracted choice, I have felt the introduction of that ceremony to be unseasonable.  With the ravenous orgasm upon you, it seems impertinent to interpose a religious sentiment.  It is a confusion of purpose to mutter out praises from a mouth that waters.  The heats of epicurism put out the gentle flame of devotion.  The incense which rises round is pagan, and the belly-god intercepts it for his own.  The very excess of the provision beyond the needs, takes away all sense of proportion between the end and means.  The giver is veiled by his gifts.  You are startled at the injustice of returning thanks—­for what?—­for having too much, while so many starve.  It is to praise the Gods amiss.

I have observed this awkwardness felt, scarce consciously perhaps, by the good man who says the grace.  I have seen it in clergymen and others—­a sort of shame—­a sense of the co-presence of circumstances which unhallow the blessing.  After a devotional tone put on for a few seconds, how rapidly the speaker will fall into his common voice, helping himself or his neighbour, as if to get rid of some uneasy sensation of hypocrisy.  Not that the good man was a hypocrite, or was not most conscientious in the discharge of the duty; but he felt in his inmost mind the incompatibility of the scene and the viands before him with the exercise of a calm and rational gratitude.