and the name-cards were daintily painted and cut in the shape of the "shamrock, so green." The bonbons were merely sticks of chocolate, made thicker at one end by a complacent caterer, in order to resemble the blackthorn "shillalah" of pugnacious fame, while the little cakes were excellent imitations of the national "praties," their surfaces covered with chocolate dust, and with bits of almonds for "eyes." They are obtainable of almost any caterer.
The candelabra were twined with smilax, and the candle-shades made of small paper Irish flags, crimped into shape, as folding fans are made. Nothing is more grateful to the eyes than a green-shaded light, and, unlike blue, it is not unbecoming.
The menu was made to conform as far as possible to the sentiment of the day.
The entree was a most savoury and highly seasoned Irish stew, served very hot, in little earthern saucepans. In France it would have masqueraded under some pretty alias—such as mouton braise a la jardiniere, but no fancy name was needed to enhance the enjoyment of the blended flavours of bay-leaves, thyme, clove, celery, pepper-corn, parsley-root, and onion—which last is "to cookery what accent is to speech."
The piece de resistance created a sensation upon its appearance—for it was no less than "the gintleman that pays the rint"—a "sucking pig," with an apple in its mouth. This dish, so popular with our forefathers, is a novelty to this generation.
With it was served, with marked honours, smothered in parsley, a dish of potatoes, in their jackets, which were so tight a fit that the flowery roots burst all bounds and looked like snowballs or cotton bursting from the pod.