“The dinner-hour in the country,” said a relation of the writer, who spends a great deal of time in France, “is generally two o’clock, even when company are invited to partake of the dinner; in which case, the whole party has quitted the house by six or seven in the evening,—­a custom which ill accords with English ideas of sociability.  Three table-cloths are usually laid upon the table, the first and second of which are, or may be, removed during the repast; but the third is never drawn off, except to be changed for a clean one.  In England, we pride ourselves upon the fine mahogany of which our dinner-tables are made; we endeavour to obtain, in the first instance, an excellent piece of wood, and to improve it by assiduous rubbing and polishing.  In France, it matters not of what material the table is framed; a cloth is always upon it; and I have seen the hospitable board of many families of rank literally formed of deal.”

A DIFFERENCE.

“In this part of the world,” says a private letter from India, (Hyderabad,) “we do not talk of striking gongs for dinner, but ghuzzies,—­ghong meaning a horse or mare.”

BOARDING.

In Ireland, when a man marries, who cannot afford to treat his friends to whiskey upon the occasion, they take the door of his house off the hinges, lay him upon it, and carry him thus upon their shoulders all day.  In the evening he is allowed to return to his deserted bride.  This custom is called “boarding,” and is so frequent, as I myself can attest from personal observation, as to attract but little attention from the commonalty, and nothing like a mob.

M.L.B.

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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

THE MAN-MOUNTAIN.

We were all—­Julia, her aunt, and myself, seated at a comfortable fire on a December evening.  The night was dark, starless, and rainy, while the drops pattered upon the windows, and the wind howled at intervals along the house-tops.  In a word, it was as gloomy a night as one would wish to see in this, the most dismal season of the year.  Strictly speaking, I should have been at home, for it was Sunday; and my own habitation was at too great a distance to justify a visit of mere ceremony on so sacred a day, and amid such stormy weather.  The truth is, I sallied out to see Julia.

I verily believe I could write a whole volume about her.  She came from the north country, and was at this time on a visit to her aunt, in whose house she resided; and in whose dining-room, at the period of my story, we were all seated round a comfortable fire.  Though a prodigious admirer of beauty, I am a bad hand at describing it.  To do Julia justice, however, I must make the attempt.  She