To make up for this very poor success, he
takes the _Daily Journal_, which he had not had time to finish at
lunch, and after first opening and refolding the _Post_, and putting
it on the top of the bread basket on his left, sits down to read it.
He ornaments the rye-bread with geometrical butter hieroglyphics, cuts
off a piece of cheese in the shape of a rectangle, fills his liqueur
glass three quarters full and raises it to his lips, hesitates as if
the little glass contained physic, throws back his head and says: Ugh!
He has done this for twelve years and will continue doing it until the
day of his death.
As soon as the crabs, six of them, have been put before him, he
examines them as to their sex, and everything being as it should be,
makes ready to enjoy himself. He tucks a corner of his dinner napkin
into his collar, places two slices of thin bread and cheese by the
side of his plate and pours out a glass of beer and half a glass of
liqueur. Then he takes the little crab-knife and business begins. He
is the only man in Sweden who knows how to eat a crab, and whenever he
sees anybody else engaged in the same pursuit, he tells him that he
has no idea how to do it. He makes an incision all round the head, and
a hole against which he presses his lips and begins to suck.
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