How very desirable is anything of which one is not quite certain. There was a time when a compradore's shop was just something taken for granted, its virtues unappreciated, its shortcomings stressed. No matter how exquisitely fragrant its cheeses, how fresh-ground its coffee, how tastefully arranged its relishes and bottles of sauce, the customer viewed the efforts with a cold and critical eye. The fate of coal, however, has shaken the foundations of living. How long will it be ere hams and bacons tum their backs upon us and wend their way to satisfy trench appetites of worthier calibre than ours? How long before we look our last upon 'a jar of Gentleman's Relish? And is Shanghai's marmalade horizon as clear as it ought to be? China's tea, we know, is already on its way to fill the samovars of Muscovy—will enough remain behind to furnish forth the tea-pots of Shanghai or shall we all go back to beer? These are ill questions to ask and hard to answer. They say that sorrow's crown of sorrow is in remembering happier things.
But there is much to be said for the peculiarly annoying sorrow of looking back on an over-ascetically-spent life from a point at which it is quite impossible to be anything but equally ascetic for the rest of a dull future. Therefore now while shelves are full and counters groan and our dollar, though streamlined instead of pear-shaped, can still buy about fifty cents worth of its pre-crash value, let us ensure that any remembering we are going to do shall LÀ of excellent meat and drink while we were able to get hold of them. So, there will be no vain regrets.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.