AN EXTRAVAGANZA.
IT was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually
hearty dinner, of which the dyspeptic _truffe_ formed not the least
important item, and was sitting alone in the dining-room, with my feet
upon the fender, and at my elbow a small table which I had rolled up
to the fire, and upon which were some apologies for dessert, with some
miscellaneous bottles of wine, spirit and _liqueur_. In the morning Iread the short story