Herein is the distinction between the genuine guest and the visitant. This latter takes your good time, and gives you his bad in exchange. The inferior functions of life begin to move heavily. We cannot concoct our food with interruptions. Our chief meal, to be nutritive, must be solitary.
Meats have no sapor, nor digestion fair play, in a crowd.
The unexpected coming in of a visitant stops the machine. Our knife and fork drop instinctively, and we feel that we have swallowed our latest morsel. Others again show their genius, as we have said, in knocking the moment you have just sat down to a book. These scratches in appearance leave an orifice that closes not hastily. This is the secret of their gaddings, their visits, and morning calls.