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PROLOGUE.
But first,—and here's the point I fain would press,—Don't think I'm tattling!—They interpose, to curb its lusciousness,—What, 'twixt each fatling? First comes plain bread, crisp, brown, a toasted square:Then, a strong sage-leaf: (So we find books with flowers dried here and thereLest leaf engage leaf.) First, food—then, piquancy—and last of allFollows the thirdling: Through wholesome hard, sharp soft, your tooth must biteEre reach the birdling. Now, were there only crust to crunch, you'd wince:Unpalatable!