Pine-apples.
When pine-apples are picked and eaten fresh in their own climate, they seem to dissolve in the mouth, and the fibrous texture is hardly perceived. Not so at our tables. Here I have sometimes partly resolved that they are not much of a luxury after all, especially when the slices are so tough as to require the knife and fork. They are better cut into dice, saturated with sugar, and piled in the centre of a glass dish, with a row à la Charlotte of sponge-cake slices, or of ladies’-fingers around the sides.