ABSTRACT
As atonement for that offence against civilization, the midday dinner, the Germans have invented a late supper that defies the critic. The very meanest Speisesaal is transfigured when the gaslight falls softly on the delicious potato or cucumber or herring salads of the country, flanked by the tall slim glasses of amber Rhenish wine. Far behind has the Continent left Great Britain in the matter of salads. In the large towns of the United States where men and women delight in the pleasures of the table are specialists who spend their afternoons going from house to house, preparing the salads for the day's coming great event. Of other green salads the name is legion: endive, dandelion leaves, chicory, chervil, mustard and cress, and a hundred and more besides before the resources of France, more especially the Midi, and Italy be exhausted. But these minor salads, as they might be classed, pale before the glories of the tomato.
