The table was one mass of silver. Waxlights, in
candelabra, were already lit; and a host of servants waited, silent and
respectful, behind every chair.
The guests were nearly a dozen in number, and more than one prominent
"government official" honored Mr. Blocque's repast. I had been
introduced among the rest to Mr. Torpedo, member of Congress, and
bitter foe of President Davis; Mr. Croker, who had made an enormous
fortune by buying up, and hoarding in garrets and cellars, flour,
bacon, coffee, sugar, and other necessaries; and Colonel Desperade, a
tall and warlike officer in a splendid uniform, who had never been in
the army, but intended to report for duty, it was supposed, as soon as
he was made brigadier-general.
The dinner was excellent. The table literally groaned with every
delicacy. Everywhere you saw canvass-back ducks, grouse, salmon, pate
de foie gras, oysters; the champagne, was really superb; the Madeira
and sherry beyond praise; and the cigars excellent Havanas, which at
that time were rarely seen, and cost fabulous prices. Think, old army
comrades, starving on a quarter of a pound of rancid bacon during that
summer of '64--think of that magical bill of fare, that array of
wonders!
Who was the magician who had evoked all this by a wave of his wand? How
could smiling Mr.
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