By giving very nice récherché dinners.
It was their boast, they used to say,
Not to attempt a great display;
In a small house it would have been misplaced,
Therefore they merely aimed at perfect taste.
It was a standing joke with Mister Brown—
A joke in which he hated to be foiled—
That there could be no other house in town
Where taste so ruled the roast—ay, and the boiled.
'Twas the commencement of the autumn season,