meal.  If I did not make a rule of rising early and taking regular exercise, I doubt very much if I should be able to swallow a mouthful-there’s nothing to whet the appetite here; and it’s the same everywhere; as Yellowchops says, our breakfasts are a disgrace to England.  One would think the whole nation was upon a regimen of tea and toast—­from the Land’s End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, nothing but tea and toast.  Your Ladyship must really acknowledge the prodigious advantage the Scotch possess over us in that respect.”

“I thought the breakfasts, like everything else in Scotland, extremely disgusting,” replied her Ladyship, with indignation.

“Ha! well, that really amazes me.  The people I give up—­they are dirty and greedy—­the country, too, is a perfect mass of rubbish, and the dinners not fit for dogs—­the cookery, I mean; as to the materials, they are admirable.  But the breakfasts!  That’s what redeems the land; and every country has its own peculiar excellence.  In Argyleshire you have the Lochfine herring, fat, luscious, and delicious, just out of the water, falling to pieces with its own richness—­melting away like butter in your mouth.  In Aberdeenshire you have the Finnan haddo’ with a flavour all its own, vastly relishing—­just salt enough to be piquant, without parching you up with thirst.  In Perthshire there is the Tay salmon, kippered, crisp, and juicy—­a very magnificent morsel—­a leettle heavy, but that’s easily counteracted by a teaspoonful of the Athole whisky.  In other places you have the exquisite mutton of the country made into hams of a most delicate flavour; flour scones, soft and white; oatcake, thin and crisp; marmalade and jams of every description; and—­but I beg pardon—­your Ladyship was upon the subject of this young lady’s health.  ’Pon my honour!  I can see little the matter.  We were just going to look over the bill together when your Ladyship entered.  I see it begins with that eternal soupe sante, and that paltry potage-an-riz. This is the second day within a week Monsieur Grillade has thought fit to treat us with them; and it’s a fortnight yesterday since I have seen either oyster or turtle soup upon the table.  ’Pon my honour! such inattention is infamous.  I know Lord Courtland detests soupe sante, or, what’s the same thing, he’s quite indifferent to it; for I take indifference and dislike to be much the same.  A man’s indifference to his dinner-is a serious thing, and so I shall let Monsieur Grillade know.”  And the Doctor’s chin rose and fell like the waves of the sea.

“What is the name of the physician at Bristol who is so celebrated for consumptive complaints?” asked Lady Juliana of Adelaide.  “I shall send for him; he is the only person I have any reliance upon.  I know he always recommends confinement for consumption.”

Tears dropped from Mary’s eyes.  Lady Juliana regarded her with surprise and severity.