In it are invariably to be found a piano, at which the ladies
frequently perpetrate most dreadful music; a marble table, in the centre
of which always stand a silver tray and silver tankard and goblets
containing iced water, a rocking chair, besides other easy-chairs and
sofas, and a Bible. It is a rare thing not to find a Bible, the gift of
a Society, in every bedroom and drawing-room in the hotel. The bedrooms
never have bed-curtains, and sometimes no window-curtains; but the
windows usually have Venetian or solid shutters.
The dining-hall is a spacious apartment, often 80 or sometimes 100 feet
long, and in some large hotels there are two of these, one used for
railway travellers, and the other for the regular guests. The meals are
always at a _table-d'hote_, with printed bills of fare; the dishes are
not handed round, as in Germany, but the guests are required to look at
the bill of fare and name their dishes, which does not seem a good plan,
as one's inclination is always to see how the dish looks before ordering
it. Everything comes as soon as asked for, and there is a great choice
of dishes. There is very little wine drunk at table, but to every hotel
there is appended a bar, where, we are told, the gentlemen make amends
for their moderation at table by discussing gin sling, sherry cobbler,
&c.
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