It need scarcely be said, then, that if this system be followed in its entirety, the rot and the releve being carefully selected, the service of two light entrees between them is both intelligible and artistic.

In favour of the older English custom it has been argued, with considerable justice, that delicate works of culinary science - such as entrees are supposed to be - should be presented while the palate is yet fresh, and while the diner is thoroughly able to detect and appreciate the niceties of flavour, crispness, tenderness, and so forth; that a slice of plainly roasted or boiled meat, with a selected vegetable, should follow; then a morsel of game, and the entremets. Advocates of this very excellent method, it will be observ-ed, do not pay any particular attention to the rot. When game is out of season, they present a savory entremets immediately after their releve, and send round their salad with the saddle or sirloin. Thus, in the space marked in the printed menu for "rots" we occasionally see "aspic de foie gras" with "asperges en branches" and no rot whatever.

Of the two systems the older one is certainly the simpler. The correct introduction of the rot is really the novel feature of the new menu - "poulet au cresson, salade," for example, never figured in the old bill of fare in the place of game - and by its introduction the releve, altered a good deal in character, is of necessity pushed out of its original place.

It will always be conceded, I think, by partisans of both systems, that each possesses merits of an undeniable character. The old method, as we have seen, is the simpler, and consequently the easier of the two, while the new may be voted more truly artistic. In adopting the latter, however, it is a sine qua non that all the principles of the dinner be observed, and faithfully carried out. We cannot miss a single point, or our little feast will become a fiasco.

We must not serve, that is to say, "pintade au cresson" as a releve, or "jambon au madere" as a rot - trifling errors that I have noticed at certain banquets modelled according to the new regime. Neither can we forget the salad, which, with its plain dressing of oil and vinegar (not a thick eggy one, I beg) should accompany the rot as a matter of course.

If unable to follow the rules of the revised menu accurately, owing to an indifferent market, or some other unavoidable reason, the wise dinner-giver should fall back upon the older form, and be contented with a less pretentious festival. The superiority of the new order of things consists in a more artistic distribution of light and shadow. If we rob the picture of an effective ray of sunshine here, and forget a judicious touch of shadow there, we can hardly complain if our efforts result in disappointment.

At the commencement of these remarks, I spoke of the economy of time in serving a dinner - a subject which, I am sure, every earnest follower of reform will allow, should command our closest attention. Of the two menus I have spoken of, the older form would perhaps seem to be the quicker served, and in establishments where the new system has not been long in practice, I certainly have observed that the dinner was a little too long. I, however, attribute this to the novelty of the service, which at first very naturally perplexes servants who have long been accustomed to a different method. When once understood and generally adopted, I do not think that the new arrangement will be found longer than the old.

A good deal of time can obviously be saved if the giver of the feast be mindful of the importance of that desideratum. The releve, for instance, should undoubtedly be carved at the buffet, and each portion should be sent round with its accompanying vegetable also helped at the side table. I have seen a sliced fillet of beef handed round a table of eighteen people, with vegetables following it, and a large dish containing slices of a saddle of mutton garnished with divers vegetables, also carried round. The waste of time, not to mention the positive nuisance of such a method of service, need scarcely be dilated upon.

At a large party I would always hand round the entremets de legume with the rot, and in composing the dinner, I would select the entremets so as to harmonize with the roast game or poultry - petits pois au beurre with wild duck or teal, epinards a la creme with quails, etc., etc.

If the essential need of brisk service be kept in view, people who have declared themselves in favour of the new form of menu, and are determined to carry it out correctly, ought not only to deserve but to command success; while those who have already achieved a reputation with the older one, will do well not to bid adieu to a system which, if somewhat less artistic, provides, at all events, a very reliable and decidedly enjoyable way of entertaining their friends.

But in either case you cannot make your dinner too simple in detail, and the fewer servants you employ to carry it out the better. How distressing it is to see a herd of attendants, mobbing each other like a scared flock of sheep, at a time when everything should be as orderly, and as quiet as possible. To ensure calm service, pare down the number of your dishes to the fewest possible, and for eight guests never allow more than four servants, besides your butler, to attend the table.

If these remarks be correct, as far as a small dinner of eight is concerned, how much more do they apply to large banquets? In the case of official entertainments, success is too frequently marred by very indifferent service. The indirect cause of this is, as a rule, an over-crowded menu.

With a great many guests it is, of course, necessary to call in a quantity of waiters who have never worked together before, and an undisciplined crowd of native servants will most certainly ruin the best dinner that ever was cooked, unless you reduced the work they have to perform to the best of your ability.

At such dinners as these even I would never give more than two really good entrees, served separately, and without any dishes of vegetables accompanying them; then, say, a white vegetable with potatoes for the turkey, and French beans, or peas, with potatoes for the saddle.

The menu should invariably indicate the particular vegetable you intend to serve with the releve, thus :- Selle de mouton aux haricots verts, Fricandeau au chou-fleur, Piece de boeuf braisee au celeri, Quartier d'agneau aux petits pois, etc. To save time, a portion of the vegetable named should be helped with the meat, potatoes alone being handed round. It is the essence of ignorance, and of bad taste to send a number of vegetables round with the joint. Almost as bad, in fact, as the practice of serving them with the entrees.

At a large dinner, you sometimes see turnips, cabbages, cauliflowers, French beans, and potatoes (occupying five waiters) going round together. For the Anglo-Saxon delights in quantity, and his soul loveth display exceedingly. Masses of incongruous diet may be necessary at a yeomanry festival, or after an Agricultural Show at the county town; but educated people who have travelled, and who have had opportunities of forming refined notions of human nature in general, and of food in particular, ought surely to be better satisfied with a little, really well considered, than with abundance inartistic in its arrangement, and indifferently served.