NUMBER XVIII. ON STORY-TELLING. Our friend, Mat Prior, told, you know, Once on a time, so runs the fable, AS nothing, perhaps, tends more to the general amusement of society than a well-told story, seasonably introduced, it is extraordinary, now that education is come to such a pitch of refinement, that it should not be made the study of youth to acquire that ease and gracefulness of expression, in the relation of events, which throws a lustre on every subject. Few attain that freedom and elegance of speech so essential; and many are apt to err, by repeating in one company what they may have heard very opportunely related in another, regardless of time, place, or circumstance; and without considering whether it be likely to meet with the same applause in a different circle. A ♦ story thus introduced, cannot fail to prove both tedious and uninteresting. Thus it fell out the other day with young Squire Talkative, who heard the following anecdote related the day before, by a companion of the chase, on his return from the sports of the field; which he repeated at a whist table the next evening, while his partner was anxiously inquiring how many honors he had; and, no doubt, to the great annoyance of the rest of the party. "A countryman, from the interior of Normandy," as the story goes, "had been invited to dine with his Seigneur; and among the many good things of this life, a woodcock was served up, which he relished exceedingly, and made particular inquiry as to the manner of cooking it. Some time after, my Lord went to dine with his country friend, who gave him a hearty welcome and an excellent dinner. Various soups and fricassees having made their appearance, at length in came a delicate little pig, of which most of the company partook, declaring it was the most delicious morsel they had ever tasted; when, lo! and behold, presently in came the servant, bearing an immense toast, covered with the et ceteras of the little animal they were feasting on!" et ceteras that must be left to the imagination of the reader, lest his delicacy should be offended at the bare mention of them, as nobody ever before or after ventured to introduce a dish so garnished; the pig having, to the great astonishment and disgust of the guests, been dressed after the fashion of a woodcock! "They looked at each other with wonder and confusion-not knowing how to account for the introduction of so strange a dish. Some, for a moment, thought it was a joke; which, by the way, they were by no means inclined to relish; whilst others imagined it might be a method of dressing a pig peculiar to that part of the country; till they observed, by the countenance of their hospitable landlord, that he was somewhat disconcerted himself at the circumstance, which he plainly saw appeared a strange one to his company. The moment of surprise being over, a kind and honest eclaircissement from their wellmeaning host, with the aid of a little excellent cordial to keep down the delicacy upon which they had lavished so many encomiums, but which now they found some difficulty in digesting; soon reconciled their stomachs, if not to the toast, to the remainder of the good cheer, which was most abundantly supplied." It will naturally be concluded that this story, opportunely told the preceding day, might produce a momentary display of mirth, and lead to social converse; but in the present instance the effect was entirely lost, both by an ill-timed recital and the lack of allusion. The disgust that was evinced by the party who had partaken of the pig, when they came to the knowledge of the manner in which it had been dressed, could hardly fail to create a revolution in the stomachs of those who had, but a few minutes before, declared it to be the greatest dainty on the table. Some people, however, not so remarkable either for their taste or their delicacy, can turn into ridicule what others know to be more than a jest. Such was the temper of some, among the hunting party, where the foregoing story was so seasonably related by their entertainer. You see the force of imagination, gentlemen, said one of them, by what our friend has just related. For my part, I have met with many in the course of my life, who would have been equally disconcerted at the idea of having eaten any thing against which they conceived an antipathy, though no cause should have arisen to discompose their digestive powers. One gentleman, in particular, with whom I am acquainted, pretends to have so great an aversion against barley, that he can't sup a little mutton broth thickened with that wholesome ingredient, unless it be strained; and then his wife is under the necessity of using some innocent deception before he'll venture to taste it. This same gentleman has also a remarkable antipathy against peas-pudding, although particularly fond of peas-soup. I had the misfortune to be present one day when he happened to find a grain of barley on his plate, which, by some accident, had crept in among the rice that he was eating with a delicious curry, a dish of which he was particularly fond. This discomposed him not a little, I assure you; and, to complete the horrors of such a calamity, on the removal of the fish, a leg of pork, with its usual attendant, peas-pudding, made its appearance on table. What a 2 disaster! He now broke forth in a kind of frenzy, declaring that such treatment was not to be borne, and that he should in future dine out, since only such things were provided at home to which, it was well known, he had a particular dislike. His wife, as well as myself, looked all astonishment, for he was by no means an ill-tempered man; but the unlucky grain of barley had so deranged his intellectual faculties, as well as his digestive powers, that his stomach, in all probability, would have recoiled at the greatest delicacy that could have been offered him. His anger, however, was soon appeased by the mild apologies of his wife, and the social gaiety of his friend ;-two or three glasses of good wine set all to rights again; and he cracked his nuts and his bottle in perfect good humour. In the evening he relished some of the cold pork too; nor did he attempt, as many would, under similar circumstances, to disguise his appetite; on the contrary, he confessed he had not made half a dinner, and jocosely added he must make up his loss. As, in familiar society, one story is generally followed up by another, either similar in its nature or a-propos to some of its leading points; so did the one just related introduce anecdotes of various individuals, touched with the same kind of mania as the worthy gentleman, who, though |