We were invited to help ourselves. Our plates were soon filled with the
tempting food and our tumblers with California beer. We would have liked
it better had it been twice as strong, but what it lacked in strength we
made up in quantity. The old lady said, "Daughter, hand the gentleman
the butter." It was the first thing that I had refused, and the reason
that I did so was because my plate was full already. Now, there is
nothing that will offend a lady so quick as to refuse to take butter
when handed to you. If you should say, "No, madam, I never eat butter,"
it is a direct insult to the lady of the house. Better, far better,
for you to have remained at home that day. If you don't eat butter,
it is an insult; if you eat too much, she will make your ears burn after
you have left. It is a regulator of society; it is a civilizer; it is
a luxury and a delicacy that must be touched and handled with care and
courtesy on all occasions. Should you desire to get on the good side of
a lady, just give a broad, sweeping, slathering compliment to her butter.
It beats kissing the dirty-faced baby; it beats anything. Too much
praise cannot be bestowed upon the butter, be it good, bad, or
indifferent to your notions of things, but to her, her butter is always
good, superior, excellent.
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