An event of my life

I have noticed many examples of luxury in the wring place. I mean, the elaboration of enjoyments in such a way that they cannot be enjoyed. A little while ago I happened to be dining in the train; and I am very fond of dinning in the train—or, indeed anywhere else. I know that people some times write to the papers, or even make scenes in the railwy carriage, complaining of the railway dinner service; but my complaint was altogether different—and indeed, quite contrary. I did not complain of the dinner because it was too bad, but because it was too good. The pleasure of eating in trains is akin to the pleasure of picnics, and should have a character adapted to its abnormal and almost adventurous conditions. This dinner was what is called a good dinner--- that is it was about twice as long as any normal person would want in his own home, and a the great deal longer than he would want even in an ordinary restaurant. 

The train was also what is called a good train—that is, it was a train that swayed wildly from side to side in hurtling through England just like a thunderbolt. Bo body who really wanted to enjoy such a long and luxurious dinner would dream of sitting down to it under those conditions. It is foolish to attempt ti possess simultaneously the advantage of luxury and leisure with the advantage of speed.

  As a fact, such combinations are simply conventions. It is not that anybody left to his own intelligence , would prefer to enjoy a concert in a restaurant, or dinner in railway carriage. It is that some rather vulgar people do not think a restaurant is conventionally complete without a programmer of music, or a dinner without a cataloger of courses. These conventions are in their result quit cold and uncomfortable. They entirely neglect the art of pleasure-seeking, in the only intelligent sense of seeking pleasure, where it is to be found. It is generally to be found much more in isolation, in distinction and even in contrast.